The Prince of Gems

The Prince of Gems

Burn like a candle fierce.
And when your foes the tzaraath pierce
shed the sister's slanderous lies
lift each vale, and each disguise
prove the sage's words were true
and that the gems turned into you
with kindness turn the clock anew

(centered on a story from Rabbi Nachman, by the same name)

Soul

Soul

 "Your bloods are red," I have been told.

"And over top them rides the soul.

Forever bought, it's who you are, whether shy or bold."

But time and again, I feel like gold.

I am neither slaughtered, encouraged, nor stilled.

Forever lost, never bought, forever sold.

I am neither recognized nor roled.

"Alone" is not even the word.

Not a soldier, forever a sword.

Drawn across time like a cuckoo bird.

But then I closed my eyes, and all I have seen went red...



(updated 6/24)

from freshman year (late 2012) in reaction to a school shooting...sadly there have been enough that I don't know which

School Shootings

The blood of the fallen is scattered. 

 It calls from the hearts of students and a teacher standing in the schoolyard. 

 It screams from the tiles and from the ground beneath. 

It burns in the eyes of a country.

The eyes of the fallen are closed now.

They do not see what a witness saw and they fail to take in the schoolyard.

They stare back at the years woven, the parents who made them.

A pluck broke the strings, strings of time

The tiles clean, the soil hidden from view.

Under the yard where hopers breathe abandoners air

voices from above shout all mistakes and breaking human mind.

There isn't any music.

Buried in metal that is witness to nothing

And it all seems so simple, a world displaced from a world

or an item moved from a store shelf

a lie transferred, hand to hand

and the soil ironed with a sprinkler.

Falling lead, the sound of nothing

the collapse (very old poem, ca. 2011; maybe even 2008/2009)

The collapse

I threw myself, hurtling, out of the dark cave

Where I had been hiding, imagining flights

And asking questions about a strange world.

There outside the cave, I found a set of books

Each striving to fill my brain, to prevent

Any other book from reaching in.

But I wouldn't have it.  I kept them all out.

I kept their knowledge where it was, and

I opened them when I needed to.

And what seemed like hours became days,

And what seemed like days became months.

As I became filled with the knowledge

Of what each book could tell me

And of nothing else.

One day, I grew bored of the books

And descended back into the cave.

here, let's type some stuff

I won't act as we've seen, I'm not like
the person who did it, I saw
and won't dare to say "because I'm not like you"

that person is not you
he is not like you

I don't know he is a person

you are not like that
you are better

you aren't that person
you wouldn't do that

there is something unseen, I am certain

Money (poem)

Money

There is this funny number
that shows up in the inbox every week
a reminder from the bank
they want me to be responsible

it says how much I can use others
who would rather not be used

or maybe they would, but if it were me, they would not
they'd have something else better to do.

Money, I hate you, I need you, it seems
because I am confused
because we are confused

because I don't know what the other wants
or if I know, and maybe I do
(some days, not up to me, nor to you)
my heart won't admit it.

I think it's my heart, at least
and I don't know how to show what's true
to the other, the world, my heart
without being cruel

Just in Case (poem)

Not my proudest creation, but it belongs here.  Shared elsewhere first.  I wrote it for one person, but ended up writing it in a way that only G-d or someone close would connect all its parts to me.

This email was written as a result of reading this.  It was not sent.

Just in Case
February 23, 2016

I don't think you know

don't know if that's OK

better write this for you

maybe seen, maybe not

I want you to know

I wish I could say

Your kindness is true

whether meant, whether thought. 

:)

Truth is what's everywhere

You're in one place

when I feel underground

(such disgrace)

it's only a feeling.

Forgetting it sees

your kindness is here

guarding us in its place.

It spreads out its wings

and reaches

pulls up and up

till the grounds below slip

till it and me, we dance.

How to give this dance sound

how to make your words sing...?

I want you to hear it

I want it to ring

--

On bad days, and good ones too

I'm glad if I remember.

Hopefully, I thank the One who reminds me

(naturally or personally).

Hopefully, I also thank you

since you made the memory.

--

The fact you were here

after all this...

after madness and running away

and lost patience

and what could have been threats

after getting excited and pushing too hard

and forcing, using, the wrong hand

and maybe things worse than that 

-- I don't know -- you know --

still willing to say hello

every so often

still out loud to admit

we have something in common.

--

That is enough.

It lifts me up from the pit

and we fly to reach every place.

Even if you forget.

Even if you regret.

That is your kindness

still here, it's you

everywhere.

True.

--

The rest of the email:

(Every once in a very rare while, someone keeps me company on a day when I really know I don't deserve it.  Not just that I don't (that'd mean a much higher frequency) but that I also know I don't.  

It is impossible to know what it seemed like from the other side, but...those times have a special place in my heart.

This is for you, [name].)