בְּתוֹם

,בְּתוֹם הַסְּעוּדָה
,מוֹחֶה אָדַם אֶת פִּיו
.שְׁיָירֵי מָזוֹן, טַעֲמֵי תַּבְלִין
,זֶה הַשָּׂבֵעַ
,אֲשֶׁר קְדֶירָתוֹ מְלֵאָה לִגְלֹשׁ
,וְזֶה הָרָעֵב
.שֶׁפִּיתּוֹ דָּלָה

,עִם רֶדֶת יוֹם
,עוֹצֵר אָדָם מֵעֲמָלוֹ
.זֵיעָתוֹ מִצְטַבֶּרֶת, עָיֶיפוּתוֹ גּוֹבֶרֶת
,זֶה הֶעֱשִׁיר
,אֲשֶׁר תְּבוּאָתוֹ פּוֹרָה
,וְזֶה הֶעָנִי
.שֶׁשָׂדֶהוּ דַּל

,בְּסוֹף הַמַּסָּע
,נָח אָדָם בְּיַעֲדוֹ
.דּוֹאֲבוֹת רַגְלָיו, אָבָק הַדֶּרֶךְ בִּבְגָדָיו
,זֶה שֶׁהִרְחִיק לֶכֶת
,שֶׁבָּטַח צַעֲדוֹ
,וְזֶה הַתָּחוּם
.שֶׁרַגְלוֹ הִסְסָה

,הַהַצְלָחָה מִי יֶשוּרֶנָה
,פּוֹרֵשׂ אָדַם אֶת מוֹרַשְׁתּוֹ
,מִשְׁפַּחְתּוֹ, חֲבֵרָיו
,שוּתָפַיו לַדֶּרֶךְ, אַף אוֹיְבָיו
,מִי יָהִין לֶאֱחֹז בָּמוֹשְׁכַה
,לָצֵאת וְלַחְרֹשׁ
.לִמְשֹׁךְ בָּעֹל

English Translation
July 12, 2018

Leftovers

LeftoversBread crumbs,
Pieces of food,
Drying on a table,
After a meal.

Petals,
Leaves of a flower,
Wet on the ground,
After a storm.

Teacups,
Echoes of conversation,
Circles on a glass top,
After a visit.

Prayer,
Whispers of hope,
Absorbed into the soul,
After a ceremony.

Longings,
Impressions of love,
Fading in time,
After a breakup.

Rainbow,
Arching of colors,
Glistening in sunlight,
After the rain.

Hope,
Filling the heart,
Ushering future,
When all else is gone.

 

April 14, 2019

Bequest

The pulse that had slowed down to a murmur,
Stopped.
The breathing, which struggled for hours,
Became a whisper,
And ceased.

The still air in the room,
Slivery dust particles, frozen in place,
Like a faraway galaxy, barely visible,
Glistening.

A few doors down,
A nurse notes the monitor screen,
Flat.
A casual walk to the room.
At the side of the bed, wrist lifted.
Doctor, attending,
Wrist lifted once again.
Time of death, three fifteen.
Body covered, white sheet.
The door closes, the room is vacant,
The dust galaxy slows itself down,
From the interruption.

In a different place, miles away,
People will be notified,
Soon.
There, and in other spaces,
More will recall, remember,
A conversation, a day, a picture.
A life.

An endless set of gestures,
Decades in the making,
Come to harvest.
An act of help,
A sign of care,
A token of love,
A shrug of disregard,
A kind touch,
A word of inspiration.

A legacy that formed over a lifetime,
From countless actions,
Dispersed to many,
Who will soon come,
To testify, at last,
For the one,
Who is no longer.

The bed is bare,
The room empty,
A silver galaxy rests still,
Glistening,
Outside the room,
In the world,
A legacy is born.

 

January 16, 2019

American Eulogy

(AP Photo/Phelan M. Ebenhack)

When I am shot,
Please do not feel sorry for me,
Do not pray for me,
Or keep me in your thoughts.

When I am shot,
It will likely be an act of random violence,
A chance encounter with one bullet,
Perhaps a few more.

When I am shot,
I may die instantly,
Or bleed to death,
Lying on the ground.

Alternatively, I could just be maimed,
Like so many gunshot victims,
Living a handicapped life,
Once the news cycle turns.

I will be shot,
Someone will be, for sure,
Later today, tomorrow, you can never choose,
It just happens a lot.

Oh, America, my beloved,
The land of the free,
Apple pie and baseball,
Sky-high dreams,
And the AR-15

Here, oh great nation,
Life of liberty and happiness,
Is contingent on,
The freedom to possess,
Weapons of war.

So, friends and compatriots,
When I or you are shot,
Do not cry, do not despair,
It will be for a great cause,
The freedom to be murdered.

 

June 15, 2016