Type: Poem

Those they call vile things / are an homage / to Her beauty

My husband stokes the fire / with wood the children gathered / I knead the dough – / an offering for the Source of all

The toy Solar System / gets the revolutions right / but a true scale model / would take up half of town / .

A Poem for the Removal of Uterine Fibroids

“I have no people and my God makes me mourn…”

“The water waited to see the animals again, / the shapes they would assume and the sounds they’d make…”

“Prophecy is the glue that yokes today / with tomorrow, it is one hopeful word…”

“The stone, once mud  at the bottom of the ocean / pressed into rock by time, / will outlast me.”

“Praying at The Wall, / Rav Kook’s Four-Fold Song / Singing in my ear…”

“To calm the tide of polarities Endeavor to massage and find similarities…”