you made us recite it

again and again

we practiced and presented

you clipped short all complaints

 

stand straight; backbone up

speak loud; voice crisp

in obedience

to instructions

we learned to tame our lisps

 

look front and center; eyes

making fierce contact

on stage a young girl

made an audience pact

 

fix your feet; hold their shuffle

mean what you say; use

tear ducts and heart muscle

nervous ticks and growing warts

confidence is earned; not

bought off a shelf

 

face it; confront the worst

don’t dribble your words; let

them out of your pores

like a furious cloudburst

 

the applause you want to hear

will stay drowned; if you

choose not to confront your fears

 

stimulate strength; let Invictus

into your bones; let the

echo permeate your skin

through the fingers that

hold the microphone

 

today; I say to you, my dad

stay unbowed, and teach me again

how you captured grief; using faith

when you could use blame

stand upbeat, and teach me again

always one to pick the higher stance; never did

you let vanity sustain

 

indomitable, a master of your fate

every mile, a captain of your soul

 

you taught me much; you let me dare

most of all you did not listen to can’t

and trained me towards the grit to persevere

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Encourage you to find a work-life balance” scribbled in light hand, almost hesitatingly so

each year, someone decides to scribble something

bullets in the section called “opportunities”

each year, others in life read and think, often say

hmm, yes, you should, try!

I thought about it long and hard

as I have for more than 20 years

To myself I say – 

seesaw games

swinging into the skyline

holding your breath

jumping off a diving board

Balance or gravity

in a child’ hours?

they found their own

the body knew

as did the earth

dancing, footwork matching anklet sounds

sculpting, kneading into the wetness of clay

theater, voice, and form in position for the audience

baking, ensuring those air bubbles do not go astray

needlework, tying in the thickness of strands with the depth of color

teaching, what you want alongside what they need

amateur attempts all; yet

involved into themselves

wonder alive

mundane, moments of trial

family tied felt knotted into my hands

compliance flooding my mind

following an order; including into marriage

belief, in the simplicity of doing

without the compromise to loving

reconciliation of sides

their water and my sky

sometimes heart, often mind

the id and ego

life as a mantle

of work and worship

and all things in between

connections that touch

distractions that feed

responses that matter

words when you startle

as you hear yourself

when the voice breaks

when it flows over

the fluid spaces between

work and life

interruptions that create an escape

within and without

submission without hesitation

interruptions;

needy child calling, that girlfriend decision, lost wallets, graduation dresses, dinner dates, a recipe for sprouts, income tax on bonus dollars, doctor appointments, dorm rooms and boyfriend crisis

botherations;

the report, due dates, a flight delayed twice, hotel pillows, presentations, inane research, incoherent change, happy hour plans, endless fishbones, and pyramids

Balance is a lie

the design of our brain

and designation of our muscles

are about deviation and motion

try drain an incessant abscess

stubborn enough to tread its time

yet pamper it with warmth

and it submits to the cajoling

balance is about the weight

in the elements of your valence

labor into your leisure

worship with persistence each day

sing to your work and your play

let the hustle bring you its pleasure

balance supposes there is an all

but winter always follows fall

wear the badge of work and life on your sleeve

trust that light will reflect the variations in your weave

Let me be

persisting into each day

let me do what I do

going the extra mile

intent being my companion

nurtured adequacy is what I create

playing life so there is no stalemate

Let me do what I do

boot the balance

there is much more at stake

let me do what I do

live my daily grind

let my work and my worship

whisk me through a rhythm

do not beckon me with blue sky wishes

do not teach me balance

and lead me astray

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

never again will there be an argument

about porn being more dangerous for social health

than the trade of death and its creeping demons

never again will it be okay to sell parenting tips on violence

in mass emails propagating it as a critical skill

normal will never again be numb and

sanity will never again be responded to with hysteria

never again should it be a question of either/or

vigils should never again be for children

never again should hiding from gunshots be a legitimate game

never again, should a ballet dancer have to practice

her agility taking cover under school desks

never again, should beach-loving friends

have to hold hands while holding their screams

never again, should a grandfather be surrounded

by the gloom of fear for his young grandson

the “as usual” life for a parkland resident

will never again include dreams without closets haunting them

scrabble will never again be a favorite family game ever

since the unfinished word was the young girl’s last

never again will there be that ever smiling coach

man enough to have pushed his students behind walls

letting the blood gush out of his own forehead

never again will her favorite chocolate nemesis

be on a dessert menu, each bite if ever will

coagulate the sweetness into heartrending sobs

melting down the throat of a grieving mother

tears will never again mean much more

than an obscene indication of helplessness

the blinding lights on police cars

and single files of teenagers

walking hands above heads

never again will they be innocent again

never again, will the wails of a mother

fall on silent ears and ambiguous words

17 families will never again think of

valentine’s day without bleeding hearts

the stone steps of parkland town

will never again, ever be able to wipe

the stains of the 17 young coffins that lay there

never again, will a hole in a heart

hurt as much as the hole in our collective humanity

never again will we rate and rank shootings

as worst or best ever; because

never again will the stink of rotten death

be enabled due to inaction and subservience

to everything that is insane

never again will we enable a collective abdication

of our responsibility towards our children

never again can despair keep us as awake

as the dread of sleeping through an emergency code alert

never again will we be forced to teach

our children to look out for “that kind of guy”

 

 

 

 

 

transforming –

the landscape shifted

through the dawn

snowflakes, fed into the earth

finding their warmth

settling weightless

to the fields

pine needles blush

their green edges carassed

by a silent silky white

the sky loomed low

gloomy, as it offered

its own horizon

into the nakedness

of a glistening night

brown shrublands awake

to a milky way

as white falls in droves

hyperactive creation

in swift master strokes

freezing a dry crust

into a white grave

sunbeams discover

a new place to shine

pausing their restlessness

evolving –

the universe moves

with tectonic plates

continued titillation

crowdsourcing fates

holding generations

in anxious flirtation

paradoxes that dwell

in buds and blossoms

sustaining equilibrium

immersing into the other

diminishing contradictions

encouraging anticipations

pausing –

allowing a pause

may herald

a promise

of precious poise

Today we were notified of extreme weather conditions

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the boy in a dark suit and kippah, was in seat 24B

innocently awkward, he slides into his seat

 

nine hours of closed space connections

a microcosm of variety within the economy cabin

mental presence, more focus, and more observation

than anyone would have on our average days

 

“seat upright please”, she clicked her heels as she tapped my arm

looking up, I see the boy in 24B standing, facing backward

towards strangers in seats, straight backs, tray tables open

I nibbled, squirrel-like at my croissant

and scribbled, into my new airport bought notebook

 

the boy in seat 24B, I start penning

he was young, 17, maybe 18

 

words tumbled without effort

gliding themselves on smooth pages

as our plane took off, snooth too

hitting through the sparkle of the sun

 

He is captivating

in his complete submission

sincere in his observance

recitation lighting up his face

 

the aura of his mitzvah

generous faith, unalloyed

curious eyes reflecting colors of

the turban of the passenger

behind him in 25B

 

despite the chatter around

and the clatter of airplane cutlery

the mumbling in his own voice

also resonating in our straining ears

 

he recited to himself

unflinchingly focussed

us around him

were also focused, but

on containing reactions

controlling responses, confusing

our inner reconciliations

 

scribbled two pages, my pen slipped

as I dozed into bliss, a power nap

“would you like a warm tissue wipe,” she asks

I inhale the warmth, why does it barely last 30 seconds!

 

his prayer drifts in and out

inhaled and exhaled with his breath

as he wears his tefillin, sincerely

on the left center of his arm

and crown like on his head

choreographed almost, a disciplined practice

 

He continues through,

standing backward facing

beacon like within

this bubble bird of steel

 

his performance, full of honesty

every action, every move

being one of submission to

teaching and to grace

 

can such boundlessness

also, be attempted on land

I wonder as I look at the screen

45 minutes to destination, the map says

 

will the vastness of the land

still, allow us to be as fearless

as we are within this sterile

universe at 40,000 feet

 

meanwhile, descriptions of people

can at least be altered

erase the standard, default

definitions and fonts

to be more like handwritten

solicitations that fill

our hearts with an understanding

of each other’s stories

 

meanwhile, can we eliminate labels

that consolidate genealogy

terms that end with an exclamation mark

listings that are in columns with

lines that are walls of otherness

 

“have a great stay or a safe onward journey”, in a typical pilot tone

we landed safe and on time

the door opens for deplaning

and as we walk out in single file

a sense of comfort escapes the cabin

swishes out of the door, leaving us

suddenly tired

 

judgemental fears returned, as we

complete our forms for immigration

I poke into my pockets for my pen

the boy in 24B hands me his pencil

“you can use this,” he says

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You of me are as I was of her

You will always be the compass

You point me to my inner prayer

 

Mama with her Sunday obsession

of baked marble cakes and fried butter scones

You of me are as I was of her

Order and routine is to your world as to hers

we may lament at times but you keep us all on our toes

You will always be the compass

Crossing milestones and touching landmarks

you power through, my heart beats in awe outside my body

You point me to my inner prayer

 

In the sameness that surprises

Of differences that define

Of puzzles, of brilliance, of patterns

 

Mama at her dresser table array

you peer into your compact, squinting into being grown up

in the sameness that surprises

I recall walking home from school into mama’s arms

I recount, often, walking home from work into your chatter

of differences that define

Your royal blue dress at high school prom

My ink blue outfit at your brother’s wedding

of puzzles, of brilliance, of patterns

 

Strung together, from mine and hers

You became an invitation to fairy lights

That dazzle and dim as they

evoke her magnanimity

possess my courage

define your grace

You are the magical elixir and the array of fountain lights

To the way the crisp autumn leaves color their edges
And the branches crackle in laughter with the snowflakes

You begin where assumptions end and continue where belief pauses
In the way you smile at the silly realities of loved ones
And freshness you stimulate through any air tunnels you ride

You defy the obvious and describe the mysterious
As you traverse the daily traffic
stir the crowds on new crossings
Or hold your breath on rollercoasters

Life caresses the palette you embody within your lean frame and almond eyes
It brings you journeys that are like trailing paths in hidden woods
And also pulls your dreams into a charismatic performance

May you always be the strongest friend to your lover, always be the lesson that inspires stories
May you learn to write with abandon and smile with deep connection
May birthdays only be one more reason to relish ideas of sunshine and make the moonlight your escort and may faith be sealed in your most challenging realities.

May you have the courage to embrace new journeys and may life unfold its beauty in the palm of your delicate hands

do you pray with mind or heart?

do you bow your head or bow your soul

do you drape a scarf, wear your Sunday best or adorn a skull cap?

does it matter?

what does your praying voice ask for?

what does your prayer music thank for?

what does your prayer book say to you?

do you think about it?

when did you last feel ecstatic in His will?

when did you nourish good by words not deeds?

when did you last love like a sacred salutation?

will you try?

where did you stand when you gaze upwards?

where do you go when you need answers?

where do you find yourself dancing in abandon?

could you search?

why did you turn away your devrish?

why did you give names and bookmark humans?

why did you draw lines that cut over the pages of life?

can you pause?

Today, you awake frightened, startled

and sleep afraid, cautious

today, you question good in others

and are suspicious of your own

today, you hide scars

and defend vulnerabilities

What if tomorrow?

you make an effort to unlock the cages?

and let the tears run free?

I stand looking upon a threshold and as the clock ticks to countdown, I want to say what I don’t say as often and will never present as well as you both do –

For my life and changing patterns, Mansi

You are you and you make me brilliant

indulging me with your ebullience

You brought to me courage in wishbones

Finding your home in heart and spaces unknown

unobtrusive yet ever present like a signature cologne

The photo clipped at the center of my gallery

You erupt in rich shades and deep hues like cranberries

We will step into doors and walk into places

You bring surety to me and shine a grandeur on the basics

For my blood and racing passion, Sanah

You are my voice no matter how much I may fall short

Will be my watchdog near, far and across the realms

You have(you said!!) my back when I ever cross a chasm

Our squabbles measure comfort

And your care is always triumphant

A storm is quick to tide over

Fiery warmth you bring helps glide over

Distance falls short they say when measured in blood

Differences mean no more when expressed in loving strokes

You are my wine and my whiskey

You are for me the beauty of commencement and the charm of continuity

 

 

You, together are timekeepers of the family

Serve as an internal constant

The elder, you bring us an essence of dreams

The younger, you bring us an alignment of our days

One wakes us up to the cheer of new perspectives

The other relishes in reclaiming connections

Reciprocity that you both offer is compelling

Your passion, Papa,

and your meticulousness, Sahir

both much different, both magnetic

both keep us synchronized

with ourselves

with each other

Papa – 

you have and always will be a large man

large in how your shoulders spread themselves with pride

large in how your chest supports the many medal pins on your uniform

large in how your boots serve as a nest to the hiding kittens

large in how your palm cradles my teary face

large in how your eyes reflect my laughter

large in how you are the bastion of support to many

large in how you bellow opinions on television sets

large in how much and how deep your forgiveness runs

large in how you welcome life at its tempestuous best and its

torrential worst

large in how you can set everything right with unconditional love

large in how far you can push to adapt to changing rhythms

Sahir –

you have and will always be a meticulous man

meticulous in your choice of the roads you take

meticulous in your osmosis way of processing advice

meticulous in your calm patience and your edgy impatience

meticulous as the filter to Sanah’s synthesis

meticulous as the nuanced lighting to Mansi’s ecosystem

meticulous in your sure and silent decisions

meticulous in your embrace of the daily humdrum

meticulous in your inspirational commitment

meticulous in your boundaries as well as your explorations

meticulous in your simplicity and credible presence

Papa, Happy Birthday and cheers to celebrating newer, larger perspectives

Sahir, happy birthday and  a toast to making and keeping meticulous promises