The Poet

I will meet you in

the place we met.

We underwent the conversion of one

who abandons their past life.

I rely on you to tell me the truth not only as a form of integrity, include the tears you cannot hide, but look us in our souls and explain why you believe.

The loudest noise of silence torments us as a mother chases her daughter from the house.

כאשר פגשנו
חשבתי לעצמי
״אין לי ארץ אחרת״
ועד היום אני בבית.

(When we met
I thought to my self
“I have no other country”
and to this day I am at home.)

הכי יפה

שוחה בים

רודפת אחרי מה

שהיא לא יכולה לקבל.

(The most beautiful one

swimming in the sea

chasing after what

she cannot have.)

During Shabbat I heard we were attacked four kilometers away in the synagogue and then this morning again in the Old City.

In Shabbat I was afraid and stayed inside my village.

Our security multiplied and I did not cry.

I wept only inside for how numb we are today.

You carry it within.

Every moment I searched outside,

I forgot myself in fullness.

לאין חזרת אליי?

תמיד חייתי עם האמונה.

אפילו עכשיו אני מגלה את עצמי בך.

(Where did you return to me from?

I have always lived with trust.

Even now I discover myself in You.)

You cover your body in gold,

it is the softest shield.

Gold blinds but does not inflict violence.

When you pray in the city your

ancestors yearned for

you become an image of their greatest desire.

If you have a voice, do not suppress it.

I opened every door before I came home to mine.

The one with the greatest tolerance for violence

is not the mighty

but the reserved.

If I entered the room

without fear of judgement, what changed?

When we lose the doubt in ourselves,

we believe again.

I love you as we ascend.

Coming home 

is the only option.

The fear is what defeats me.

You read an analysis of your subconscious

you write the same words when you look inwards.

Spring. Colors appear different beneath pure sunlight. A woman calls to her lover that her smile has returned, and still the rain drizzles.

Who plays by the window?

I take into account the time when

I spent what I had on train tickets

in the direction of a place I

wanted to go to feel seen except

being seen is what brought me to modesty.

I cannot see between the glass.

A window or a mirror?

Is it you or I who shifts?

The abundance of nothing-where does it lead to?

Rub vanilla and jasmine oil into your neck,

cover yourself in gold

(and diamonds if you can find them)

but never stop wanting.

I bring in Shabbat with the joy of one who enters into their home after a heavy day of work.

To fight

is to look for death

beneath the carpet.