Aviv

O Aviv, upon your full moon, hinge all of the promises anew. The grains of the barley harvest, are roasted, ground, and sifted. Mixed with oil, a handful of frankincense placed on top. Then, consumed by the flames, it’s smoke arises to Shomayim. Thus, completed, we may partake of the abundance of the harvest.

The sheaf of the first fruits stands as a reminder across the generations. To all who aspire towards righteousness, as upright sheaves, standing in the field. Waiting for the harvest, we seek renewal, when the day arrives for joyful reaping. And, the sheaves will be gathered, waived like lulav branches in the wind. Carried across the lands of the earth, to be planted anew in Yerushalayim.


Pesach offering,
unleavened bread, wine, and guests;
waiting for next year.

Out of the silence of the heart,

patience is born, derived from

the eternal nature of the soul.

Patience blooms best in silence;

when the heart becomes still,

the entirety of the soul listens.

The fertile void of the moment,

births words of truth spoken,

within the heart of silence.

The soul that is present, here

in a moment of time, is waiting

to hear the footsteps of Messiah.

Redemption is at hand for all

who are able to acknowledge

the potential of every moment.

Cozy

Perfect, in the moment;

beyond that, I do not know.

Knowing that change is imminent,

would prevent me from being present.

Kairos will soon give way to chronos;

and, the moment will diminish,

retreating into the past.

Nearly forgotten, countless moments,

lined up as figurative points

on the receding path of memory.

Yet, the expectation prevails,

a hope for the unity of tomorrow,

when past meets future in the now.

Anxiety retreats, fear scatters,

and the familiar presence of being

one step closer to the Geulah,

brings solace to the heart.

Promise

1 Nissan 5781

Running, the tempest behind me,

still present in my thoughts and dreams;

yet, somewhere on the horizon, I can see

in the distance, there is a place serene.

Joyous within myself, outwardly smiling,

my emotions never surface enough to be visible;

perhaps, a trait from my ancestors upbringing,

learned men of books, studying in the shtetl.

My father comprehends the silence,

that his view from heaven always reveals;

although, amidst my own earthly burdens,

much for me still remains concealed.

Yehi ratzon, I will be consoled at last

by the promise of the Final Redemption;

each year that closes the gaps of the past,

brings us closer to our future reunion.

Linear time and eternity merge,

as hours pass into days and years;

in a single glimpse, moments converge,

carrying the weight of golden tears.

The Beis HaMikdash looms visible,

in the inner sanctum of the soul;

a place of solace, clearly recognizable

by the light of the Shepherd’s fold.

poetry: Afterglow

this is the calm before the storm,
for those who take refuge in the makom,
while sheltering in place, reflecting
upon what is essential in life.

the afterglow of sanctity will strengthen
all, who look towards shomayim (heaven)
in anticipation of the final call, the Geulah
when the shofar will resound across the world.

Redemption is at hand: Moshiach awaits,
the moment of revelation will arrive;
his reign from Jerusalem will stretch all
around this Planet, from the east to the west.