The Day my Brother was Born (a poem)

The day my brother was born, I was torn –

already 16 years old

on the cusp of college & adult life

he was so precious

he kept me close to home

in mind & soul

even though the family fell apart

I keep him close to my heart

worry about him, but know that

he’s my blood & I’d go to the gates of Hell

to protect him.

(Photo by Kylo on Unsplash)

What is Happiness? (a prose poem)

What is happiness?

It’s sitting in the comfy chair in the reading nook, next to you while you work away at your desk. It’s our pup laying behind your chair, chewing his favorite toy, completely at peace. It’s our baby girl, purring away sitting on the ottoman next to my feet.

Happiness isn’t money or the nicest things the world has to offer.

Happiness is your kind and loving heart, loving me forevermore.

Shabbat (a poem)

I knew nothing of Shabbat before you

or the prayers we say on Friday nights

as we break off pieces of challah + let the candle

burn all night by the window –

I’m happy you’ve taught me, it’s brought me

a new ritual in this life, the life we share together.

(Photo source: shutterstock.com)

It Keeps Getting Better (a poem)

We’ve been together for two years

and it keeps getting better –

I know you well, but will I ever know you completely?

Your essence, sense of self, the core of you

that’s hidden and accessible only to you and God

but as the days go by, more is revealed

and it keeps getting better.

Wild Gardens (a poem)

The wild gardens in our neighborhood grow onto sidewalks

weeds choke out flowers in front of beautiful homes

near the synagogue we wish to visit whenever

this virus stuff is over –

wild gardens, with daisies and wildflowers

that remind me of your wild spirit + ceaseless bravery.

(Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash)

Making Memories (a poem)

Heavy boxes stacked in the bedroom,

you’re moving again, amid the pandemic.

We’ll see another part of Philly, add to

the memories we’ve made – even if we’ll

be wearing masks and hunkering down.

We’ll find a new coffee shop, we’ll walk new

streets, taking pictures every so often

that’ll be in a book next year that celebrates

our time together.

(Photo by Josh Hild on Unsplash)

Southern Backroads (a poem)

Sometimes I think of our love
as though it’s an old Southern backroad
You’re in the driver’s seat
my feet are on the dash
The roads are curvy and dictate our speed
sometimes we take them slow, sometimes fast
At times they’re the straightest path
with fields of corn on either side
There are moments of fear
but also moments of pure joy
Those old Southern backroads
can go on forever, with no end in sight
Many times you ride those roads
with your most trusted companion
Those Southern backroads are an adventure like none other
and it’s only you I want by my side.

Cooking with Rachel (a poem)

For Rachel Forth

The summer days are long and there’s still light outside

when we roll the dough and dance in the kitchen while

making stromboli – you lead the way, but teach me too –

you make it like it’s second-nature to you, a true cook,

and I’m your student – all I can make is scrambled eggs.

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Pray for You

Prayer has always been a major part of my life. I remember kneeling next to my bed as a little girl to pray. I even loved when I was old enough to lead my family in our dinner prayers, which sometimes felt like a sermon because I got lost on tangents and just love talking (even to God)!

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