The Comfort in Connecting
One to Another
obliviating for a moment
immanent loneliness
one that never really goes away
rather stands for you at the Ready
Remains waiting
after Love’s
laughs and fears
*
Keeps us Longing
until we hear
in our Patter
the Breath
we draw
from an identical
Life Source
*
Atoms to Atoms
the Rumi in Us
*
Art Work by Yaron Rosner
Steeped in the abundance of stories told
She grew
A hum of voices lulling her spirit
Into fullness
Repeating names
Describing places of long ago
An island,
Houses perched Precariously
On cliffs
Beaten by a Vehement sea
Bountiful Traditions, ice fishing
carving, and Dancing – a life
Of millennia –
****
Like a wash of color
Deeply embedded
In the fiber of her being
Woven into her flesh
Is a longing She can’t define,
Pointing to her ancestors
She explains
That is where they lived
Half the year, in the Winter
She herself, has never been,
Imagines, smells, thirsts
A life no longer lived
Yet beats on, in her existence
Courses through her body
Evokes memories
Which are not hers – But Are –
****
With the persistence of a Survivor
She tells you
Of this world lost
To the arbitrary western mind
how she wants to return,
like one robbed of her Belonging
Her inheritance
****
King Island, Alaska Photograph Dave Cohoe
To my grandfather
a Spirit you Appear
through your written elegance
A visionary you Hover
in the wounded Flesh
of your children’s hearts, who
remember you Vehemently
but in fact, hardly
Stories waft in pieces, Scents
Sounds of darbuka,
they vanish as quickly
nothing retains them, nobody
really knows the man
who died of an ancient virus
caught upon opening
the buried vaults
of Forgotten gods
By way of your Book
you visit me, Reveal
yourself , your love
for a land which raised you
was not yours, still
houses your Bones
I picture your soul
as the wind lifts the Sand
restless Circling
questioning the years
you spent on your own
Waiting to die
so far from those
who needed you most.
