Poetry

“When will I be myself again?”

Some Tuesday, perhaps,

In the late afternoon,

Sitting quietly with a cup of tea

And a cookie;

Or Wednesday, same time or later,

You will stir from a nap and see her;

You will pick up the phone to call her;

You will hear her voice – unexpected advice –

And maybe argue.

And you will not be frightened,

And you will not be sad,

And you will not be alone,

Not alone at all,

And your tears will warm you.

But not today,

And not tomorrow,

And not tomorrow’s tomorrow,

But someday,

Some Tuesday, late in the afternoon,

Sitting quietly with a cup of tea

And a cookie

And you will be yourself again.

Shared by Bayit, Beside Still Waters 

In the Time of our Sorrow

By Rachel Kann

My tongue wants to un-gate the flood, it is

an urgent compulsion to spill knotted guts,

in these weeks of banned melody,

my lips wants to rebel,

to howl,

to sing

of my suffering,

of all my shortcomings,

every rejection,

every threat to our collective existence,

the abandonment unabated,

of how my heart is a bitter almond,

spilling with cyanide,

splitting its endocarp,

longing only for the orchard,

of how my heart is a heavy stone,

flack-jacketed,

sallow and sinking in my chest,

how a glut of shrapnel is stuck in my throat,

of how I am blindfolded in love’s minefield,

frozen, unable to navigate the danger

lurking beneath the surface,

hurtful blossoms

lying in night-wait

only to explode,

detonate the light of day,

of the world’s unending

re-dedication to the re-destruction

of temples.

My heart wants to take flight,

transcend the gravity

of this misbegotten planet.

Before the unkindness of ravens and

murder of crows can escape the open moan,

I am circle-dancing,

hand in hand with so many wondrous

warrior women,

with Magda and Miriam,

who came through the dark tunnel of the Shoah,

who are here with me,

present and spilling light.

This is beyond awe,

beyond gratitude.

We weave a grapevine

up the trunk of the almond tree,

we are strengthened by our suffering.

We are indestructible.

This world crushes us,

we refuse to turn poisonous,

dancing and rooting and branching

despite this.

In glorious defiance,

we pour ourselves forward

in honeyed amaretto flooding,

we sweeten the darkness,

light the bitterness.

We kasher every unholy implement

used against us.

We ready them for service

in the holy temple of our most

miraculous dance:

our continued existence.

won’t you celebrate with me 

BY LUCILLE CLIFTON

won't you celebrate with me

what i have shaped into

a kind of life? i had no model.

born in babylon

both nonwhite and woman

what did i see to be except myself?

i made it up

here on this bridge between

starshine and clay,

my one hand holding tight

my other hand; come celebrate

with me that everyday

something has tried to kill me

and has failed.

Caged Bird

BY MAYA ANGELOU

A free bird leaps 

on the back of the wind   

and floats downstream   

till the current ends 

and dips his wing 

in the orange sun rays 

and dares to claim the sky. 

But a bird that stalks 

down his narrow cage 

can seldom see through 

his bars of rage 

his wings are clipped and   

his feet are tied 

so he opens his throat to sing. 

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom. 

The free bird thinks of another breeze 

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees 

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn 

and he names the sky his own 

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams   

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream   

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied   

so he opens his throat to sing. 

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom.

Pack Nothing. Bring only your determination to serve and your willingness to be free.

Don’t wait for the bread to rise.
Take nourishment for the journey, but eat standing, be ready to move at a moment’s notice.

Do not hesitate to leave your old ways behind - fear, silence, submission.

Do not take time to explain to the neighbors.Tell only a few trusted friends and family members.

Then begin quickly, before you have time to sink back into the old slavery.

Set out in the dark. I will send fire to warm and encourage you. I will be with you in the fire and I will be with you in the cloud.

You will learn to eat new food and find refuge in new places.
I will give you dreams in the desert to guide you safely home to that place you have not yet seen.

The stories you tell one another around your fires in the dark will make you strong and wise.

Outsiders will attack you, some will follow you, and at times you will weary and turn on each other from fear and fatigue and blind forgetfulness.

You have been preparing for this for hundreds of years.
I am sending you into the wilderness to make a way and to learn my ways more deeply.

Those who fight you will teach you. Those who fear you will strengthen you. Those who follow you may forget you. Only be faithful. This alone matters.

Some of you will die in the desert, for the way is longer than anyone imagined. Some of you will give birth.

Some will join other tribes along the way,
and some will simply stop and create new families in a welcoming oasis.

Some of you will be so changed by weathers and wanderings that even your closest friends will have to learn your features as though for the first time.

Some of you will not change at all.
Sing songs as you go, and hold close together. You may, at times, grow confused and lose your way.

Continue to call each other by the names I’ve given you to help remember who you are. You will get where you are going by remembering who you are.

Tell your children lest they forget and fall into danger -
remind them even they were not born in freedom but under a bondage they no longer remember, which is still with them, if unseen.

So long ago you fell into slavery, slipped into it unaware, out of hunger and need.

Do not let your children sleep through the journey’s hardship.
Keep them awake and walking on their own feet so that you both remain strong and on course.

So you will be only the first of many waves of deliverance on these desert seas.

Do not go back. I am with you now and I am waiting for you.

Full PDF Here - http://www.jewbelong.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/JewBelongHaggadah-1.pdf

"I have concluded that one way to pay tribute to those we loved who struggled,

resisted and died is to hold on to their vision and their fierce outrage at the

destruction of the ordinary life of their people. It is this outrage we need to keep

alive in our daily life and apply to all situations, whether they involve Jews or non-

Jews. It Is this outrage we must use to fuel our actions and vision whenever we see

any signs of the disruptions of common life: the hysteria of a mother grieving for

the teenager who has been shot, a family stunned in front of a vandalized or

demolished home; a tamily separated, displaced; arbitrary and unjust laws that

demand the closing or opening of shops and schools; humiliation of a people

whose culture is alien and deemed inferior; a people left homeless without

citizenship; a people living under military rule. Because of our experience, we

recognize these evils as obstacles to peace. At those moments of recognition, we

remember the past, feel the outrage that inspired Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto and

allow it to guide us in present struggles.