I want to go home-A mother's plea

Her new home-

she's come a long way, baby

Laura Ashley-

goyish, but gorgeous,

delicate, refined

the smell of  “Waspy” freshness

in every corner-

“It's very clean” she mutters, an accent 

 of some far away spot

far away from the shimmering shores of the Hudson river

and so long ago, before her world died,

when she could boast  of a father

with  modern machines who

could crush kernels into

bread,

and recite the  mantra of

lines of gentile farmers waiting for

the miracle of a wealthy Jew-

“I want to go home” she declared, eyes blankly looking ahead 

at some dim memory of 75 years ago-

“and where is home” she is asked, fear in the daughter's voice,

lest she reply

“the Queens!”

“Sosnovitch” came the barely audible 

reply,

a tiny shtetl

 of carefree days,

not a Jew in sight today, unless 

you dig a bit underground.

Another home, another grey haired lady 

lost in the emptiness of time

upon hearing her plea-”I want to go home!”

a social worker asks, pity and professionalism mingled in a desperate mind,

 “Where is home?

And she answers with a certainty born of confusion

“Auschwitz!”

Hands-in memory of Betty Lederman, 1917-2015

Kneeling, not in church

but by mother’s bedside

not standing, superior, dominant,

not even equal in line of vision

but humbled in devotion 

to her source of life;

her cold, red hands 

caress the stretched out skin

of blue veined hands,

almost bloodless with age 

and severe anemia

“Azoi kalt!” she exclaims

eyes widening with surprise and concern

the supplicant still kneeling, rubs the skeletal bones 

of her personal supernal Imah,

and coldness thaws, redness turns pink

and the warmth of a mother’s heart 

flows beyond blood’s coagulation.

Modeh Ani-Thank You

Modeh ani,

Good morning God,

My thanks to Thee,

For the usual and the odd

I open my eyes,

Wriggle my toes,

What a surprise 

 and know what nobody knows

I can bend my knees

And do as I please

Jump out of my bed,

Or roll off instead

Hear my heart beating,

Either fast or slow

Up and down belly breathing

Like putting on a show

On a wintry morn

Shivering and cold

I snuggle  reborn

A life to unfold

My heels on the rug

Soft and sure

Toasty and snug

I feel so secure

Sounds all around me

Silence and snores

A morning melody

The opening of doors

Through the clear window

I am able to see

Lights coming on below

And   rising sun’s   mystery

My  nose  can smell

The toasting of bread

My ears can tell

Of a family  being fed

A mother’s smile,

A father’s hug,

Lying back a little while,

Relishing life’s tender tug 

my eyes still shut

 I open my heart,

getting out of the rut

A new day to start

 Im alive, with no effort

And nothing  must I do,

For Your gift and support

I sincerely thank You.

A WInter's Snow

On a rocking chair,

By a winter’s window,

From prayer book I stare

At the glistening snow.

The white beyond price

Disappears in the speck

Of a droplet  of ice

On the edge  of the deck

As if in trance,

All the colors in the sky,

A moment of chance

Nature’s miracle I espy.

Like a neon sign

Flashing off and on,

My heart could only pine 

For the rain after dawn

Not to advertise,

A car or  boat,

Nature’s wonder  to promote.

And open heart’s eyes.

Many minutes  go by

And all I could do

Was to fix my eye

On  God’s  tiny clue.

Green and red ,

Like traffic lights above,

Gentle guidance ahead,

Flickerings of love.

It’s Shabbes and  quietly I sit,

Looking in  the book and looking out,

To catch God’s presence if only a bit,

Within my soul a silent shout.