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The View
Here a family hides,
Moeder, Vater, and Kinder.
Behind the window a mirror hangs,
a silver plate suspended by a string.
They gather round to see on its face
those on the ground, little families like their own
except the children run free.
Now if those below knew who was above,
what would they do?
Would they turn them in for seven guilders
and have a dinner with a bit of meat?
Their stomachs would growl a little less,
as the mirror swings alone in the breeze.
Moeder, Vater, and Kinder.
Behind the window a mirror hangs,
a silver plate suspended by a string.
They gather round to see on its face
those on the ground, little families like their own
except the children run free.
Now if those below knew who was above,
what would they do?
Would they turn them in for seven guilders
and have a dinner with a bit of meat?
Their stomachs would growl a little less,
as the mirror swings alone in the breeze.
The Nest
A pile of straw is my nest on the cold kitchen floor.
A wall away birds flutter on their short journeys
round and round and round in a cage so large they think they are free.
In the morning light they sing me awake while I lie in darkness,
knowing full well they are glowing red and green and blue.
They are safe in their prison and will live their lives long
with no fear of a predator to snatch them away.
And I will be silent and small and hidden as I listen.
A wall away birds flutter on their short journeys
round and round and round in a cage so large they think they are free.
In the morning light they sing me awake while I lie in darkness,
knowing full well they are glowing red and green and blue.
They are safe in their prison and will live their lives long
with no fear of a predator to snatch them away.
And I will be silent and small and hidden as I listen.
Wolf House
The wolf house is our den.
Up in the eaves I sleep.
And if I am very quiet and slow my breathing,
I can hear whispers of nights long ago
when drinking songs and merriment
filled the air before there ever was a zoo
I share this house with a lemur.
who lives on the floor below.
A nocturnal fellow, he sleeps when I am awake
and is awake when I am asleep.
We are comfortable housemates,
both displaced.
I tiptoe down into sunlight.
A sixty-year-old lady, I am not afraid.
I have torn off my star!
I sit on a bench
greeting all who enter the zoo.
I chat to them in German or Dutch,
acting like I am one of them.
If I am discovered all are discovered.
A benign expression is my shield.
Audacity, my cloak of invisibility.
And no one knows that just like the monkeys and
the wolves and the cheetahs
I cannot leave.
Up in the eaves I sleep.
And if I am very quiet and slow my breathing,
I can hear whispers of nights long ago
when drinking songs and merriment
filled the air before there ever was a zoo
I share this house with a lemur.
who lives on the floor below.
A nocturnal fellow, he sleeps when I am awake
and is awake when I am asleep.
We are comfortable housemates,
both displaced.
I tiptoe down into sunlight.
A sixty-year-old lady, I am not afraid.
I have torn off my star!
I sit on a bench
greeting all who enter the zoo.
I chat to them in German or Dutch,
acting like I am one of them.
If I am discovered all are discovered.
A benign expression is my shield.
Audacity, my cloak of invisibility.
And no one knows that just like the monkeys and
the wolves and the cheetahs
I cannot leave.
When I Was Free
If the wind is wild you dance for me
no rustling leaves to flutter.
Only your bones weave and sway.
And if the sun is bright
you make a play of shadows on the wall
a tableau
into which I fall
imagining the days when I would climb into your arms
and look down from great heights, invisible and safe.
In the months to come when you wear a coat of green,
I will breathe in your sweet scent
and pass another day remembering when I was free.
no rustling leaves to flutter.
Only your bones weave and sway.
And if the sun is bright
you make a play of shadows on the wall
a tableau
into which I fall
imagining the days when I would climb into your arms
and look down from great heights, invisible and safe.
In the months to come when you wear a coat of green,
I will breathe in your sweet scent
and pass another day remembering when I was free.
The Bear
Night is coming on…
Soon I will hear your breathing faster and faster
as you scratch against the door that leads to me.
It is torture for you to know I am here
just out of reach, my smell so potent.
I am your obsession.
Night after night I lean against the door.
I cannot sleep.
When the sun finally rises,
I hear you amble out into the light
for another day of peanuts tossed by children.
Their screams of laughter let me know
now I can sleep.
Soon I will hear your breathing faster and faster
as you scratch against the door that leads to me.
It is torture for you to know I am here
just out of reach, my smell so potent.
I am your obsession.
Night after night I lean against the door.
I cannot sleep.
When the sun finally rises,
I hear you amble out into the light
for another day of peanuts tossed by children.
Their screams of laughter let me know
now I can sleep.
My Violin
A crowd gathers as dusk hovers
to hear sweet melodies,
tones that race and dance and twirl
amongst last rays of light.
Soldiers do not goosestep.
Children are not afraid.
Birdsongs play counterpoint.
Lions hum continuo.
Suddenly it is a symphony.
A riot of sound drifts up to me
in my cold lair
and I feel my bow,
my fingers on the strings of my violin.
Tonight, I will play Bach, Barber and Brahms
Notes only I can hear
Music roars inside me.
to hear sweet melodies,
tones that race and dance and twirl
amongst last rays of light.
Soldiers do not goosestep.
Children are not afraid.
Birdsongs play counterpoint.
Lions hum continuo.
Suddenly it is a symphony.
A riot of sound drifts up to me
in my cold lair
and I feel my bow,
my fingers on the strings of my violin.
Tonight, I will play Bach, Barber and Brahms
Notes only I can hear
Music roars inside me.
Kaddish
I am a Kohen Gadol,
descended from the tribe of Levi, and Aaron ,
brother of Moses,
high priests of Israel.
This is now my temple.
Jewish law forbids me to walk in a graveyard.
I cannot have contact with the dead.
Yet I am surrounded by dead eyes and sorrow and loss.
Yisgada vayiskadash,
the mourner’s kaddish, plays constantly in my head.
In my hiding place there is no room to daven.
descended from the tribe of Levi, and Aaron ,
brother of Moses,
high priests of Israel.
This is now my temple.
Jewish law forbids me to walk in a graveyard.
I cannot have contact with the dead.
Yet I am surrounded by dead eyes and sorrow and loss.
Yisgada vayiskadash,
the mourner’s kaddish, plays constantly in my head.
In my hiding place there is no room to daven.
My Tower
This is my tower.
As I peek out , the sky is fractured
My prison is a grid of steel and glass
a kaleidoscope where clouds swirl
in a thousand pieces.
How I long to see the world as a whole.
When I look away, there is only darkness.
Some days tiny shafts of light
illuminate my little refuge.
But today the sky is gray
and there is nothing to see,
only a blank wall for me
to project my memories.
As I peek out , the sky is fractured
My prison is a grid of steel and glass
a kaleidoscope where clouds swirl
in a thousand pieces.
How I long to see the world as a whole.
When I look away, there is only darkness.
Some days tiny shafts of light
illuminate my little refuge.
But today the sky is gray
and there is nothing to see,
only a blank wall for me
to project my memories.
Rescue
We go quickly along the streets of my neighborhood.
Leaves crunching loudly… too loudly. Someone will hear us.
Why does the moon shine so brightly?
Someone will see us.
How far? I ask the man who carries me.
Soon, he whispers…soon little man.
And then I see the eagles of the zoo.
Here we are, he says, and we land.
I am thrust into waiting arms,
and I begin to cry with relief.
Where are my parents I ask? Where do they sleep?
There is silence as they shake their heads.
My tears are now of fear and grief.
Leaves crunching loudly… too loudly. Someone will hear us.
Why does the moon shine so brightly?
Someone will see us.
How far? I ask the man who carries me.
Soon, he whispers…soon little man.
And then I see the eagles of the zoo.
Here we are, he says, and we land.
I am thrust into waiting arms,
and I begin to cry with relief.
Where are my parents I ask? Where do they sleep?
There is silence as they shake their heads.
My tears are now of fear and grief.
Orphan's Dream
I creep past elephants gently snoring.
I am a child of the night.
You wait for me under moonlight,
my guardian and my protector.
In the quiet, I climb astride you
and we race about the starry sky
to a place where love still exists,
where my mother still exists
and has not burned to ash
as I float back into her arms
I am a child of the night.
You wait for me under moonlight,
my guardian and my protector.
In the quiet, I climb astride you
and we race about the starry sky
to a place where love still exists,
where my mother still exists
and has not burned to ash
as I float back into her arms
Lullaby
I see you.
I see you crawling out from your hiding place,
limbs so stiff, I hear them creak.
Don’t you know that I have my arms around you?
I wait for you through the night.
Listen to my song, it is a lullaby.
Only my skin is stone.
I see you crawling out from your hiding place,
limbs so stiff, I hear them creak.
Don’t you know that I have my arms around you?
I wait for you through the night.
Listen to my song, it is a lullaby.
Only my skin is stone.
Encounter
We must remember to be strangers.
I walk in shadows.
Suddenly you are there,
but I dare not lift my eyes
to yours.
Our shoulders brush as we pass .
Each step takes me further away from you.
And my longing is boiling inside me.
I long to lie beside you in your hiding place
where I can look into your eyes
sea glass green.
I will be here again, my love.
I walk in shadows.
Suddenly you are there,
but I dare not lift my eyes
to yours.
Our shoulders brush as we pass .
Each step takes me further away from you.
And my longing is boiling inside me.
I long to lie beside you in your hiding place
where I can look into your eyes
sea glass green.
I will be here again, my love.
The Lair
German soldiers line the fence
watching you watching me.
They wonder what you find so entrancing.
You are a massive silhouette
blocking the light of my hiding place,
but your interest does not keep me safe.
Amble over to the soldiers.
Bellow and bark to make them laugh.
Make them forget there was anything strange.
I will wait until dark, and the zoo gates are closed.
If the night is starless and the moon hidden by clouds,
I will emerge for a moment and speak softly to you,
giving my thanks, but then must crawl back to my cave
watching you watching me.
They wonder what you find so entrancing.
You are a massive silhouette
blocking the light of my hiding place,
but your interest does not keep me safe.
Amble over to the soldiers.
Bellow and bark to make them laugh.
Make them forget there was anything strange.
I will wait until dark, and the zoo gates are closed.
If the night is starless and the moon hidden by clouds,
I will emerge for a moment and speak softly to you,
giving my thanks, but then must crawl back to my cave
As I Look Up
From my hiding place I can only see the sky.
Today it is a rectangle of grey
and in the gloom and cold I sit,
my artist’s hands too stiff to hold a brush.
Tomorrow I may see a patch of blue
and perhaps the edge of a cloud
where I can imagine faces and figures
above a landscape of green.
When night comes I long for the moon
but it hovers just out of sight.
So let the night be deep and black.
Give me the stars.
Today it is a rectangle of grey
and in the gloom and cold I sit,
my artist’s hands too stiff to hold a brush.
Tomorrow I may see a patch of blue
and perhaps the edge of a cloud
where I can imagine faces and figures
above a landscape of green.
When night comes I long for the moon
but it hovers just out of sight.
So let the night be deep and black.
Give me the stars.
Passing
I walk along pristine paths.
I have blue eyes.
I have blond hair. I am tall.
We look alike.
I can walk beside you,
and you wish me a good day,
Goedendag.
I miss my chidren as you do yours.
My tears are just as salty.
I pray for my children to live.
You send them off to die.
And when evening comes,
and I crawl back into my hiding place,
I try to call back memories
of my childrens’ faces
and shabbos dinners,
love shimmering around the table
as we drink our wine.
L’chaim: to life!
I have blue eyes.
I have blond hair. I am tall.
We look alike.
I can walk beside you,
and you wish me a good day,
Goedendag.
I miss my chidren as you do yours.
My tears are just as salty.
I pray for my children to live.
You send them off to die.
And when evening comes,
and I crawl back into my hiding place,
I try to call back memories
of my childrens’ faces
and shabbos dinners,
love shimmering around the table
as we drink our wine.
L’chaim: to life!
My Power
My hands are gnarled like roots of trees
their veins purple tributaries running toward my fingers.
I no longer blister, my skin so rough and thick.
I pull each weed on creaking knees.
Inching along flower beds
one though repeats
I know your hiding places.
I know your hiding places.
I am the agent of life if I am silent,
the angel of death if I speak.
When I go home at night to meager fare
and there are still warm arms to hold me,
I think of you asleep and safe for one more night.
It is my promise to keep.
their veins purple tributaries running toward my fingers.
I no longer blister, my skin so rough and thick.
I pull each weed on creaking knees.
Inching along flower beds
one though repeats
I know your hiding places.
I know your hiding places.
I am the agent of life if I am silent,
the angel of death if I speak.
When I go home at night to meager fare
and there are still warm arms to hold me,
I think of you asleep and safe for one more night.
It is my promise to keep.
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