The old man stood outside the city gates. A warm breeze passed on by and his silver beard glittered in the midday sun. The smell of incense and sacrifices filled the air. The sounds of singing and instruments were heard from afar.
As he gazed back at the hills and the olive groves, at the homes and their children, he was reminded of his recurring dreams. In the dead of night, in nightmares ever so real, the old man had seen the great city walls breached, families massacred and then the unfathomable; g-d’s Temple destroyed. He felt it was his destiny, a g-d given mission, to do all that he can to be a savior of the city and her now rebuilt temple of glory.
In the distance he now had his first glimpse of the marching legions. His body shuttered and his mind uncontrollably wandered. Quietly he prayed. He prayed that his knees would not buckle and that his voice would be heard. He hoped and wished he would withstand and soon return; both the city and he untouched.
The horses came to a halt and when the dust had settled the general dismounted his horse and slowly walked towards the old man. The old man calmly stood his ground. Undaunted he could not believe his eyes. This man of war, whose name alone placed fear in every living man. This victorious hero, who led forty five thousand men in conquering most of earth, was but only a child. Neither a scar nor a beard was visible on his adolescent face.
Suddenly, unexpected, the general stopped and bowed before the old man.
Amongst the forty five thousand men, from Egypt to India, across ten thousand miles of bloodshed and conquest, not one could remember the general ever bowing before another man.
"Your honor, why is it you bow before this mortal being?” quietly, in a surprised tone, the general’s advisor did ask.
“It is not to this formation of flesh and blood that I bow. I bow to the g-d that created him, that honored him with high priesthood and donned him in these garments. For in a dream I have seen this man. I have seen him in the very apparel he wears today. “
The general took his dream and now the meeting with the old man as an omen; a sign of good fortune. The earth beneath the old man shook as the general and his legions carried on their way; the city and its inhabitants unmolested.
Tears of relief flowed from the old man. He breathed what felt like his first honest breath of the day. He lifted his arms and face towards heaven and smiled. He no longer felt so alone. He faithfully represented his people, he embodied his bloodline. True the land would be absorbed, but in a benign conquest.
The old man reentered the city. The smell of incense now completely filled his nostrils. The sounds of singing and instruments pierced the air. He prostrated before the temple. Today, he was a witness to continuance. G-d did not turn his back on his only child.
Showing posts with label N.Y.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label N.Y.. Show all posts
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Welcome Home.
I see him walk the winter worn streets. Nameless he blends amongst those that walk along and those that walk by.
He looks for the smiles and the welcoming arms. But here, within the generalization, in a home far from home, they are hard to find.
He wants to teach and inspire. But so do the others, others whose desires are resembling or even stronger then his. They sing and dance just as he does. They are even more outrageous then him.
He yearns for a news day’s challenge; a test, a quota. Things he despised until last year. But today is a continuation from yesterday and tomorrow a continuation from today.
He misses being needed as an individual; being appreciated for his caring deeds.
Was it the shining sun that gave him a name?
Was it open minded friends that made him feel heard?
Was it widened space that set him free?
The past is not coming back and that only makes the night more quiet and uneventful.
So he aimlessly continues to walk. The cold winds are new to him. Begrudgingly he looks right and left, high and low, for a place to land.
He disappears down the street. I know, shortly he will come to a stop and realize that the street light can shine directly on him. He will learn even in black one can choose a lighter or darker shade. Compliments don’t always must be received. They are better when given. He will create his own welcoming arms and embrace others.
We all want to be heard. But some times we also must listen.
If not for life, at least for our next journey.
He looks for the smiles and the welcoming arms. But here, within the generalization, in a home far from home, they are hard to find.
He wants to teach and inspire. But so do the others, others whose desires are resembling or even stronger then his. They sing and dance just as he does. They are even more outrageous then him.
He yearns for a news day’s challenge; a test, a quota. Things he despised until last year. But today is a continuation from yesterday and tomorrow a continuation from today.
He misses being needed as an individual; being appreciated for his caring deeds.
Was it the shining sun that gave him a name?
Was it open minded friends that made him feel heard?
Was it widened space that set him free?
The past is not coming back and that only makes the night more quiet and uneventful.
So he aimlessly continues to walk. The cold winds are new to him. Begrudgingly he looks right and left, high and low, for a place to land.
He disappears down the street. I know, shortly he will come to a stop and realize that the street light can shine directly on him. He will learn even in black one can choose a lighter or darker shade. Compliments don’t always must be received. They are better when given. He will create his own welcoming arms and embrace others.
We all want to be heard. But some times we also must listen.
If not for life, at least for our next journey.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
חג הגאולה
Almost robotic we danced in circles. Outside the winter chill was on its course, but inside the warmth took presence as the singing and dancing became livelier.
To my right a teen with side curls gripped my shoulder as we jumped up and down. To my left an older gentleman without a beard used one hand to hold his cup of vodka and his other hand waved wildly in the air. Surrounding us, men with pained faces and worried eyes sat heavily and watched. Starving for information they quietly waited.
Finally, news. Men ran in with cell phones in their hands. Pointing to their phones, shouting in jubilation “They are alive…. Both of them alive!”
Instantly the dancing grew increasingly more intense. The news circled. Announcements were made. My side curl friend was now on the floor somersaulting. My other friend was getting a refill. I closed my eyes as sweat and tears irritatingly mixed. Until our lungs became sore over and over we repeated in song “For your miracles, for your wonders and for your salvations.”
The horrific news that engulfed us all day, now escaped from every pore of our bodies.
We were threatened but we withstood. We were attacked but we survived. G-d and good prevailed.
That night I slept. I dreamt of how the rejoicing had only begun.
The next morning I woke. My throat was dry and my legs ached.
All turned black and the world stopped. “They are dead…. Both of them dead!”
I tried to ignore reality, but it was too true. The previous night’s elation was now a rumor of the past.
The world began to move again, but ever so painfully slow.
What else is there to say?
To my right a teen with side curls gripped my shoulder as we jumped up and down. To my left an older gentleman without a beard used one hand to hold his cup of vodka and his other hand waved wildly in the air. Surrounding us, men with pained faces and worried eyes sat heavily and watched. Starving for information they quietly waited.
Finally, news. Men ran in with cell phones in their hands. Pointing to their phones, shouting in jubilation “They are alive…. Both of them alive!”
Instantly the dancing grew increasingly more intense. The news circled. Announcements were made. My side curl friend was now on the floor somersaulting. My other friend was getting a refill. I closed my eyes as sweat and tears irritatingly mixed. Until our lungs became sore over and over we repeated in song “For your miracles, for your wonders and for your salvations.”
The horrific news that engulfed us all day, now escaped from every pore of our bodies.
We were threatened but we withstood. We were attacked but we survived. G-d and good prevailed.
That night I slept. I dreamt of how the rejoicing had only begun.
The next morning I woke. My throat was dry and my legs ached.
All turned black and the world stopped. “They are dead…. Both of them dead!”
I tried to ignore reality, but it was too true. The previous night’s elation was now a rumor of the past.
The world began to move again, but ever so painfully slow.
What else is there to say?
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
Saturday, November 1, 2008
ושבו בנים
His face flashes on the screen and I wonder –
When he leys on the cold nameless floor, does he remember the feeling of his own bed?
When faceless captors beat and threaten him, can he picture his mothers smile?
When cold winds pierce through is tattered clothing, does the thought of home comfort him?
When all air has left his lungs and his body becomes numb to all pain, can memories of Mediterranean beaches and vibrant cafes still exist?
When his stomach squeals from hunger and his throat dries from thirst, does he think of the waterfalls in the north and the falafel stands in the center?
When he no longer remembers where and who he is, would he still recognize his brothers in arms?
When time moves so slow and the thought of never coming home begins to settle, does he know thousands who never met him now miss and love him?
His face reappears on the screen and I wonder –
Does he still look the same?
Is he even still alive?
When he leys on the cold nameless floor, does he remember the feeling of his own bed?
When faceless captors beat and threaten him, can he picture his mothers smile?
When cold winds pierce through is tattered clothing, does the thought of home comfort him?
When all air has left his lungs and his body becomes numb to all pain, can memories of Mediterranean beaches and vibrant cafes still exist?
When his stomach squeals from hunger and his throat dries from thirst, does he think of the waterfalls in the north and the falafel stands in the center?
When he no longer remembers where and who he is, would he still recognize his brothers in arms?
When time moves so slow and the thought of never coming home begins to settle, does he know thousands who never met him now miss and love him?
His face reappears on the screen and I wonder –
Does he still look the same?
Is he even still alive?
Friday, October 31, 2008
Ani Li
If you are you because he is he,
and he is he because you are you.
Then, you are not you and he is not he.
BUT, If you are you because you are you,
and he is he because he is he.
Then, you are you and he is he.
-The Kotzker Rebbe.
and he is he because you are you.
Then, you are not you and he is not he.
BUT, If you are you because you are you,
and he is he because he is he.
Then, you are you and he is he.
-The Kotzker Rebbe.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
B49
With self proclaimed elegance, the doors to Russia opened before me. I declined. My visit would have but only one purpose, and there are so many who can fulfill the task better then me.
With whispers, a path to Mexico rubbed shoulders with me. I was not enticed. I have insecurities of my own.
Music escaping from headphones invited me to the islands. I passed up. One day a year is enough for me.
Head coverings and dark skin offered the Middle East. I remained indifferent. There is no love lost and we know it.
Dizzied, I embraced the numbers. I preferred future over present
With whispers, a path to Mexico rubbed shoulders with me. I was not enticed. I have insecurities of my own.
Music escaping from headphones invited me to the islands. I passed up. One day a year is enough for me.
Head coverings and dark skin offered the Middle East. I remained indifferent. There is no love lost and we know it.
Dizzied, I embraced the numbers. I preferred future over present
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Brooklyn summer.
The sun still had time before she would set, and then disappear behind the beach front mansions. The stranded crabs dreaded this notion, for the determined seagulls were crash landing for an early dinner.
Engulfed by the breeze, I sat and gazed at the sail boats as took they advantage of the winds. I watched the young rider soar and plummet within the choppy waters.
I have seen such moments before. After all, the coral reef in Eilat did not lie. The beaches of Sydney were tangible and the mountains of Cape Town were reached.
Yet today, I related with the moment. Today I experienced beauty, albeit simple beauty, with a Brooklyn accent.
Engulfed by the breeze, I sat and gazed at the sail boats as took they advantage of the winds. I watched the young rider soar and plummet within the choppy waters.
I have seen such moments before. After all, the coral reef in Eilat did not lie. The beaches of Sydney were tangible and the mountains of Cape Town were reached.
Yet today, I related with the moment. Today I experienced beauty, albeit simple beauty, with a Brooklyn accent.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Fractured.
Yesterday,
In the comfort of company and night;
Smack. Quick Bright Flash. Ringing. Shouts.
Confusion. Pause. Struggle. Release.
Shock. Adrenalin. Running. Calm. Safety. Anger.
Today,
Altered. Aware. Prepared.
In the comfort of company and night;
Smack. Quick Bright Flash. Ringing. Shouts.
Confusion. Pause. Struggle. Release.
Shock. Adrenalin. Running. Calm. Safety. Anger.
Today,
Altered. Aware. Prepared.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
1664
Summer Fact: There is nothing a cold imported beer cannot fix!
City buzz, human streaks, foreign language, good company and the bottle looks me dead square in the eyes.
The sight lifts me from sardine packed streets, to the spacious french alps.
From muffler fumes, to the brisk cool and fresh mountain air.
From fatigue to endless energy.
The memory:
Under my bed
the trinity did lay.
A gift for my old man
in the U.S.A.
The establishment
stole it.
consumed it.
denied it.
City buzz, human streaks, foreign language, good company and the bottle looks me dead square in the eyes.
The sight lifts me from sardine packed streets, to the spacious french alps.
From muffler fumes, to the brisk cool and fresh mountain air.
From fatigue to endless energy.
The memory:
Under my bed
the trinity did lay.
A gift for my old man
in the U.S.A.
The establishment
stole it.
consumed it.
denied it.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Conflict
Comfortably drifting back into the past, he tells me his stories and a large smile brightens his face.
He reminisces emotionally about what was once power and influence, royalty and awe.
A time when miracles and inspiration were frequent and revealed.
When blessings and advice gushed without restraint.
Moments when the tears shook the world and caused thousands to cry along.
When the songs elevated man to a different plane, carrying him above the mundane.
An era of teachings and insights which clarified all queries.
Of talks and proclamations, demands and promises.
A generation that stood by the threshold anxiously awaiting the cross over.
That understood; too much is not enough.
I interject.
“What about today”?
“Does the study, the dancing, the blind faith, do they all not impress you”?
“The cynical laughs. The depressed whispers. The hateful commentary, is it there where you place your hopes”?
“True, ambiance is lacking and fanaticism is a turn off.
But I have found my spot and at times, when I search deep enough, the message emanates clearly. Even friends tell me they too get caught in the fervor.”
He tightens his lips and shakes his head. I am not privileged to a reply.
But within his disapproval he is not too disappointed. He knows how quickly I can change my mind.
He reminisces emotionally about what was once power and influence, royalty and awe.
A time when miracles and inspiration were frequent and revealed.
When blessings and advice gushed without restraint.
Moments when the tears shook the world and caused thousands to cry along.
When the songs elevated man to a different plane, carrying him above the mundane.
An era of teachings and insights which clarified all queries.
Of talks and proclamations, demands and promises.
A generation that stood by the threshold anxiously awaiting the cross over.
That understood; too much is not enough.
I interject.
“What about today”?
“Does the study, the dancing, the blind faith, do they all not impress you”?
“The cynical laughs. The depressed whispers. The hateful commentary, is it there where you place your hopes”?
“True, ambiance is lacking and fanaticism is a turn off.
But I have found my spot and at times, when I search deep enough, the message emanates clearly. Even friends tell me they too get caught in the fervor.”
He tightens his lips and shakes his head. I am not privileged to a reply.
But within his disapproval he is not too disappointed. He knows how quickly I can change my mind.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Brooklyn's Oasis
I came up aside, turned off my ipod and said
“we are a dying breed.”
“What, Jews?” she somberly asked
“No, roller bladers” I replied.
(What a waste of private time with C.C.R.)
“we are a dying breed.”
“What, Jews?” she somberly asked
“No, roller bladers” I replied.
(What a waste of private time with C.C.R.)
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Important things in life
“Gut Yom Tov Zelda. Tell me, how is your brother in Israel doing?”
“Oy, why do you ask? My brother passed away four years ago.”
“I am so sorry to hear that”
“Yes, he was very sick. But I will tell you one thing. He did leave two of the most beautiful dentists chairs.”
“And children?!?!”
“Oh, children he also had, two boys. But they are married now."
“Oy, why do you ask? My brother passed away four years ago.”
“I am so sorry to hear that”
“Yes, he was very sick. But I will tell you one thing. He did leave two of the most beautiful dentists chairs.”
“And children?!?!”
“Oh, children he also had, two boys. But they are married now."
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Mistakes too many
I am not convinced for I will always be fenced in with awkwardness. However, I do feel the strangle hold has been loosened and the chains broken.
Though I did not succeed in soberly apologizing and the opportunity might still come.
But fortunately time, love and maturing helps the hurting heal.
If only he knew how ashamed and regretful I am. If only he knew how I wish to go back in time and rectify a childish mistake; trusting the non trust worthy.
There was no malicious intent. In fact, there was no intent at all. Just a trap set in useless conversation.
So tonight, by feelings of sweat, dancing and hugs the noose has been untied.
By visions of drinking, blessings and reaching a mile stone, I feel forgiveness has been granted.
Though I did not succeed in soberly apologizing and the opportunity might still come.
But fortunately time, love and maturing helps the hurting heal.
If only he knew how ashamed and regretful I am. If only he knew how I wish to go back in time and rectify a childish mistake; trusting the non trust worthy.
There was no malicious intent. In fact, there was no intent at all. Just a trap set in useless conversation.
So tonight, by feelings of sweat, dancing and hugs the noose has been untied.
By visions of drinking, blessings and reaching a mile stone, I feel forgiveness has been granted.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
3 years.
A naïve conqueror of you valley’s and your hills.
A curious child yearning to learn the secrets of your past.
A holiday greeting for your vulnerable yet fearless settler. For your cynical yet defiant soldier.
A Free spirit living in the enemy’s reach.
A believer that you will be there for me in my time of need.
*
Humor in the comfort of blood stained walls.
Mysticism in a hateful, close minded society.
Joy in the presence of a million humbled corpses.
Dancing to the tune of faith, body to body with naked souls.
Love to brothers and sisters I shall never forget.
*
A curious child yearning to learn the secrets of your past.
A holiday greeting for your vulnerable yet fearless settler. For your cynical yet defiant soldier.
A Free spirit living in the enemy’s reach.
A believer that you will be there for me in my time of need.
*
Humor in the comfort of blood stained walls.
Mysticism in a hateful, close minded society.
Joy in the presence of a million humbled corpses.
Dancing to the tune of faith, body to body with naked souls.
Love to brothers and sisters I shall never forget.
*
A mentor through the hardships of accepting religion.
A rock amidst an ocean of instability.
A big brother to the adopted awkward foreigner.
A teacher who brings back the voices of mothers and fathers.
A diligent student Shaded by beauty, crime, carelessness and fear.
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