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.

To Be Human

You’re perfect in your imperfectness,

complete in your incompleteness;

and, whole in your brokenness.

Life is full of paradoxes,

that only G-d can mend,

by unravelling the tangled

threads of our existence.

Bringing together past and present,

reconciling our souls to the future

Kingdom, already present in our hearts.

poem: Dawn 2

Biding my time, in syncopation
with the angels fluttering by,
outside of my window, during the day,
and receding into heaven by dusk.

They will return to gather the elect
children of G-d, waiting in patience
for the darkness to pass at last,
revealing the truth on High.

At dawn, we will be lifted into the air,
transcending once and for all,
this world of tears, and sorrow –
transformed into our true selves.

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.

poem: Horizon

I’ve grown lazy,
as my dreams clash with reality.
I have become disconnected from the actual,
because I focus on what would be ideal.

I sit behind my screen, peering into the world.
Trying to gain some kind of perspective,
that will shed light on current events.

Every time that I close down the screen,
the world vanishes along with the pixels,
that make up words and images.

On the morrow, they will reappear,
reconfigured in new patterns,
as changeable as the currents

of life that pulse through
a pastiche of reality
that never captures the essence,

falls short of the mark every time,
because of divisiveness, bias,
and myopic visions.

Like the parable about the elephant,
each person only able to describe
a singular part of the whole.

Yet, hope is on the horizon,
when the lies subside
and the truth prevails.

The long awaited Kingdom,
wherein the lion and the lamb
live in peace with all of mankind.

To this, I look forward,
when all else is in disarray,
when mountains crumble,

I know that what remains
will be here to stay.

poem: Beyond Stasis

If we are bidden to sit still,
quietly awaiting for this to pass,
then we acknowledge His will,
and demonstrate acceptance.

Yet, if we envision our near future,
as no different than our recent past,
then we have missed the point, and,
have not taken the opportunity to change.

In the chaos around us,
there must be a still point,
a central focus for our lives,
amidst these challenges.

From that point, hope is born,
fear subsides, anxieties flee,
calm permeates the air we breathe;
the expectation of a new day
will help us to endure.