Poetry 

Metamorphosis

On the ground I crawl while water fills my lungs 

The melody of droplets pounding the floor fill the air  

I listen in trying to mimic the music, but some songs cannot be sung

Above me are the angelic birds hiding away in the tallest tree with their wings expanding

While down below I await and wonder with curiosity

I wonder...

I wonder why white turns to black and black turns to white

I wonder how many illusions does it take for us to realize it was merely a reflection

I wonder when we will gaze both down and up and notice

I continue to wonder as water consumes me in all directions

I wait

I wait for the storm to stop, but my light at the end of the tunnel never shines

I turn the other way closing my eyes, but why bother, I'm already fading. 

~~~

Anchored to the eternal darkness of misery

Stuck I become unable to rewrite history

The weight of my mind only weighs me down

Trying to keep my head afloat, trying not to drown

clinging onto everything I'm able to grasp

But how exhausting it is having to hold on for so long

So instead I let go

The sun had risen and for the first time I reached out for warmth after waiting for the light to shine below

Fear and emptiness escaped as serenity filled my veins

I feel myself breaking out of my cage of fire

Breaking through the cocoon

Breaking free from the night and surrendering myself to the moon 

~~~

I awaken to the sound of drops of rain rustling the leaves

A streak of light slowly rises through a cracked reflection in a nearby window

Beside me I notice wings I have never seen before

Or maybe wings I was too blind to notice

As I spread them wide, I realize they have always been there

Guiding me through the darkness, lifting me from despair

With each flutter, my doubts and fears begin to fade

And I am reminded of the beauty and grace that surrounds me in every shade

The rain continues to fall, washing away my past

And in its place, a new beginning is born at last

I rise to my feet and take flight, soaring above the trees

Embracing the freedom and hope that now surrounds me with ease

I am no longer anchored to the eternal darkness of misery

For I have broken free and rewritten my own destiny

With my wings as my guide, I ascend beyond the sky 

Embracing infinite horizons, as I bid the past goodbye. 

The Glass Vase 

At the center of a table lay a glass vase

Surrounded by light and empty space

Its beauty glowed from within

How lively it looked, its curves like violins 

Its crystal-like features shimmering from across the room 

With flowers inside about to bloom

It craved the taste of tears from happiness 

Soft and sweet with hidden bitterness

Admiring the vase from afar

It shined brightly as a new born star 

Seconds later it was rolling softly between palms of hands

Spinning dizzily unable to stand 

Graced by tender fingertips 

Covering every inch like a moon during an eclipse 

Little did the vase know it had other plans 

Begging to be an hourglass with a bed of sand 

As it slipped away from civilization

Lost a sense of home & connection

Broken and shattered 

Lifeless and scattered 

Pieces lay still on the floor 

Until later swept away out the door

Someplace unknown where it did not belong 

Trapped against currents riding along

Lost a sense of home & connection

Broken and shattered 

Lifeless and scattered 

Pieces lay still on the floor 

Until later swept away out the door

Someplace unknown where it did not belong 

Trapped against currents riding along

Forgotten at last 

Away from the past 

The vase became a puzzle as it was nearly impossible to put back together 

The worth not gone but value lost forever 

Its magic has been stripped away 

I guess its glow was not meant to stay 

The vase ended up in the trash outside 

Crying to be heard all day through the night

Waiting for someone to notice its presence 

From the roots to its core, its very essence

Until one day someone noticed its existence 

But did not bother to stop, they didn't have the patience 

So it continued to lay lifeless on its back 

With a shed of light seeping through its crack 

Music began to make its way 

As a stranger on a guitar began to play 

Chords lingering in the air 

A reminder that someone out there truly cares 

But life moved on

Everything from sight long gone 

Before the vase cracked open 

Inside was a drop of the ocean

A seashell that when brought up to the ear 

Waves crashing was what you could hear

Now, no waves appeared 

Everything empty, yet so unclear 

There was only the screaming silence 

All alone, left with no guidance 

A boy around the age of six 

Noticed the vase that craved to be fixed 

He picked up what was left of the vase 

And all the other pieces that were misplaced 

Wrapped around in arms that felt safe 

Heading to another unknown place

Placed on top of another table 

Next to crumbs from an unfinished bagel 

The vase lay shattered, its pieces spread apart

A reminder that nothing in life is ever truly a work of art

But beauty is not just in the form it takes

It's the memories and emotions that beauty leaves in its wake

As the sun set on the vase's remains

Its beauty will always live on through the window panes.

Shabbat Poem June 13, 2018

On Shabbat, 

we don't hold things,

but we hold hands.


On Shabbat, 

we don't turn off lights that are on, 

but we surround ourselves with those that light up our smile. 


On Shabbat, 

we don't go to work, 

but we work on relationships and make relationships work.


On Shabbat, 

we don't drive,

but we are driven to find happiness. 


On Shabbat, 

we don't take pictures, 

but we capture each moment and make special moments last. 


On Shabbat, 

we don't use electricity, 

but when surrounded by the right people, they light up our life in unity. 


On Shabbat, 

we don't turn our phones on to listen to music,

but we sing and the sound of laughter and music fills the air. 


On Shabbat, 

we don't have a wifi connection 

but we have a connection with those we surround ourselves with. 


The Filtered Reality

In filtered frames, a perfect life, a narrative unfolds,  

Of happy days and vibrant nights, at least, that's what I'm told.  

But pixels lie and likes deceive, they tell but half the tale,  

Behind each screen, a hidden scene, where smiles often fail.  


I scroll through joy, I tap on love, each highlight reels me in,  

Yet as I swipe, the truth's eclipsed by curated, polished skin.  

Society says "Show your best," as if that's all there is,  

While in the quiet of my room, my soul's in dire abyss.  


My friends seem fine, their lives a line of trophies on display,  

Yet, do they too, like me, yearn for a genuine, honest day?  

For likes don't touch the lonely hours, nor mend a fractured kin,  

Nor do they hug or dry the tears that trace tracks on my skin.  


Behind my posts, a struggle rests, an unseen, aching void,  

Of needing love, a caring hug, connections I've enjoyed.  

Yet in this world of perfect posts, sincerity's but rare,  

Each image shot, a fleeting thought, but who's to really care?  


So I exist, both here and there, a paradox it seems,  

A life that's split between the real and digital extremes.  

A battle fought in quietude, away from prying eyes,  

Yet hope I keep, one day we'll see, our truths behind the lies.

Letting Go 

I watched the ink fade to ash as the words swirled up in smoke 

The fire danced around the paper as if choosing what words to let go 

The edges crumble until there's nothing left 

But a pile of ash that the flame digests.


A storm arises and lets it scatter 

Into the shadows of the night like it doesn't matter. 

But it arranged in such a peculiar way 

Twirling in the wind towards the light to play


A season ago I'd tell you I need to hold on.

Too attached to the past and what's gone 

A single picture I cling to for memories 

To fill the missing puzzle pieces of my mind that creates stories 


Unable to bring myself to give up the past 

As I blindly stare into the rosed-color glass 

I grieve for the girl I used to be 

But now I realize I'm exactly who I need.


Never knew how much pain I've caused myself 

From holding on so tightly to every word spoken or to photos hidden on the shelf 

I am no longer defined by what is now history 

I have learned to let go and create a version of me that lets me experience growth in the depth of my mystery...



Westerland Roses

I had grown a garden-

a garden

with Lilies and Daisies,

Gladiolus and Naked Ladies,

and of course my roses;

Westerland roses.


But you destroyed my garden

thinking I must be protected.

You cut off all

the thorns

off my roses.

I should have sheltered myself

from you.


My story,

Now ceases to exist.

A part of me had died that day.

My soul

is the roots,

My heart

were the roses with thorns,

My home is a garden,

And you are a prick; a rusty, dull, shovel.