From Generation to Generation-For Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Day)

There is a pipeline that runs 

not across the rugged terrain

Of Northern Canada or the wilds of Alaska

But across the tundra of tragic generations,

A pipeline gushing the energy of life,

Genes of fear seeping through placentas

Into innocent bundles of soon to be 

Bawling babies.

The source of this sticky fluid

That clogs the capillaries of clarity and courage 

Lies deep within ancient strata of 

Compressed hatred,

Hatred solidified into the shale of shame and terror

Trickling through seams of a grandmother’s uterus

Coursing through veins bulging with the  borscht of Russian steppes

And the “barakes”

 of the Balkans

These strings of  chromosomes stamping identities of  fear

To the forefront of children’s children

Reaching its evolutionary eruption through smoke stacks belching tender toxins

Of children’s flesh,

And those that live

Are “fracked”  into sources of continuity-

But life’s  liquid has been blackened by the soot of

Jewish skin trapped inside the chimneys

Of refineries wishing to purify Europe’s foul fuel

Of Jewish contaminants-

Yet  the oil of Hebrew babies  flows , emitting the energy 

of  breathing,  learning  and playing, and showing the world hope

But they tremble with the oil  of  terror’s transmission,

One that  stalks the pale and pretty face of my daughter.

I want to go home-for Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Day)

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 location

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 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!”

“Unetaneh Tokef”(High Holiday Prayer) For Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Day)

What do angels do?

Each day they agree to praise

In tones gentle and pure, obedient, loyal…

Such calm and serenity

A daily  celestial celebration

Then the New Year arrives..

And angels change their course,

In the heavenly heights,  fidelity gives  way to frenzy

As Angels scurry about,

Chaos , not the chorus of sweet melody,

To praise , to protest, to stay silent?

A day of judgment!

Who shall live and who shall die, and how???

Below mortals in quiet calm of sacred space

Embraced by coziness of family and friends,

And competent clergy, 

God is our  Shepherd , we read,

counting  little lambs shepherded back to safety after a long  day of grassy grazing

Each one passing under His soothing staff, counting and recording each little lamb;

If  one is missing then, like Moses, He  crosses  mountains and valleys 

And  cradled in the arms of the Almighty, little lost ones come  home.

we pass under His rod-

 a crook of compassion.

He will care for us, see to it that tomorrow’s 

Surprises will be pleasant ones-

Another New Year, without synagogue, 

Without heavenly hopes

This time in hell-

The Teuton god carries a stick,  a crook of cruelty 

He too counts and records , but with  the precision of  German 

 Gemeindschaft, the heart of perverted power

Babies in wailing mothers arms pass under the gold tipped staff-

crazed , they arrive at  stone cold enclaves ,

In cars meant for cattle, not fleecy, cuddly lambs!

No rhetorical questions waiting for an answer-

 All will die, some immediately, others too soon-

How? By gas, by fire, by wild beasts who play the part of  kind shepherds

To fool and deceive –

“Arbeit Macht Frei” the sign reads-

the reward for work is freedom-

And if one little lamb is unaccounted for, 

no effort will be spared to find it and bring it back home, home to the wolf’s claws, 

 where it belongs, soon to ascend 

chimney stacks and join the  smoke filled skies-

Angels abound, angels of death,  scurrying  about, with clear minds and hearts-

Doing their duty with reverent obedience

Performing their tasks of terror and death

Joyfully and with melody and song.

Please God-don’t be so meticulous in your 

Accounting of us and your divine record keeping-

Turn away  for a moment , so that we can escape  and hide 

Until liberators arrive and take us back to pens of promise. 

Passover-Eating Matzah

“ The world is the host-it must be chewed.”

Was Cheever at my Seder?

Did he see us munch away at the Matzah?

 Matzah, the Jewish host of life, the flesh

of every Jewish christ on earth?

Simple dough and water- dry land and seas,

the everything of this planet,

to be chewed with gusto 

 Satiated on matzah, do we transubstantiate?

Crunching the crispy furrows of cardboard tasting wafers 

into softened mush, the warmth of our tongues watering the dryness

of hearts into living places of feeling and life,

 into the living flesh of  divine beings?

Do we now know the answer to the four questions of life-

why is this night different? 

The Seder we chew on-

tell and retell stories, 

drink the bloody red wine, 

sample sprigs of green,

 ingest the bitterness of human suffering,

 burn the lining of our guts, 

 fill bellies with a banquet of smells and tastes-

so much chewing, our jaws weary and sore,

finally  reclining , satisfied smiles on our reddened faces, we spit out songs of praise and thanksgiving!

Next year in Jerusalem!

 But  for now we clean up and drag our tired bodies to bed,

 and  again, drift into the darkness of night,

but tonight we  know -nirzah, we have chewed the sacrificial meal and it is pleasing to the liberating spirits on high.

A Personal Dayenu-Passover-2015

 Dayenu-

If I could only wiggle my toes

And know something that no one else knows,

Dayenu-enough!

If I could bend my knees,

And see what everyone else sees,

Dayenu-enough!

If I could raise my arm,

Holding back from doing harm,

Dayenu-enough!

If I could twiddle my thumb

And scratch my bum

Dayenu-Enough!

If I could bend the  wrist

And my ankle twist,

Dayenu-Enough!

If I could hear my belly growl

And wipe away a scowl

Dayenu-Enough!

If I can slide off the bed

And not land on my head

Dayenu-Enough!

If I can hear birds chirp

and my gut   give out a burp

Dayenu-Enough!

If I have my teeth to brush

And get dressed in a rush

Dayenu-Enough!

And let’s not forget,

Hands and face that get wet,

Dayenu-Enough!

I cannot overlook,

How little effort it took

To open my eyes 

And for my belly to rise

Dayenu-Enough!

Heart going pitter patter

It’s not some small matter

Dayenu-Enough!

Breathing in,

Breathing out,

I can sing

I can shout

Dayenu-Enough!

Roof over my head,

Simply alive and not dead.

Dayenu-Enough!

I can do it  all  and so much more

To be grateful is the door

To  our joy , our longevity

Happiness and serenity.

Dayenu-we declare

We thank God for our share.