More of Israel and Heartache

I wrote this in Israel, although I can't remember when: "Writing poetry in Israel is like learning to speak Hebrew. Eventually there is SO much to say that it all comes pouring out, and it stops mattering how broken and nonsensical it may be."

Maybe If We Had

I don’t remember when your hair line began to recede
But I know how you taste first thing in the morning
And of course it’s silly to miss you
Clutching to the line once whispered in my ear
“I forgot how much I love coming home to you”

I’m not right for you
And you’re not the one for me
But the time when our bodies fit together
Has a way of making me ache on rainy days


Untitled

I miss being your friend
But I do not miss our friendship
And I don’t understand
I write poems which only I can decipher
I hide behind riddles
Cloak myself in metaphors
But they’re all about you
And the bittersweet decline of letting go


Negev

I would climb a mountain for you
I would cross a desert
I would wait for you in silence
Wrapped in thoughts of pleasure
I would study secretly
Your faults and imperfections
For the day you come to me
With water on your lips


Untitled

Be my muse
And I will struggle
With this pit in my stomach
Be my muse
I like the confusion
Let’s be honest (for once)
Be my muse
I want to pretend some more
I could deal without the heartache
But be my muse
And help me unlock all the other heartbreak never put into words
You no longer amuse me
But please please- be my muse


ESTAS

You can have your little bonding activities over your boo boos and scratches
You don’t really want to hear about this
You don’t want to know
Who wants to hear about the girl who chose this for herself?
It’s a bummer- there’s nothing cute here
Who made up that activity anyway?
Did they really want to talk about scars?
REAL scars?
Painful, scary, shameful scars which are not simply skin deep
Three pounds of metal makes for heavy conversation


It’s Good to Feel

Hello Lonely
Where ya been?
Hidin’ neath the stones?
Behind the arches?
Stayed away so long this time
I almost forgot you
But you sit down next to me
Unassuming as you are
Crawl into my shoes, between my toes
And I’m cold again
But I’ve got a place to be
I must be on my way
You can stay here if you like
All I ask is
Please don’t follow me


Excavation

The flood gates have opened
The winter rains begun
And I find with delight
That the gift is still there
As the words come pouring out onto the page
Pushed up through layers of dust
By sudden inspiration, a psychic spring
Like Jerusalem’s excavation sites
Which layer’s the last?
How deep do they go?
Will digging up one disrupt the one below?


Not You

It’s not you
Not you, not you
Who I love
At least I can convince myself
But you’re there, always there
A fact my mind can’t get around
And I always push it
I force things too fast
I want SOMETHING to happen
But I want it to last
And it’s not you
Not you, not you
Who I love

So don’t watch me like that
Don’t anticipate my touch
Look away when I’m staring
You could at least do that much
But you stare and you linger
You concede far too much
And it’s not you, not you
Who I’ll love

You don’t see the pretty
Your guard’s never down
You’re too busy explaining
To keep touch to the ground
You don’t dance to the rhythm
You force your hold on the beat
And it’s not you
Not you, not you
Who I’ll love

Even now it’s dangerous for me
To be writing this down
To put my heart on paper
Without a disguise
Yet why should I worry?
When it’s not you, not you
Not you who I’ll love?


Unanswered Questions

Can you fake electricity?
Can you stage a flying spark?
Can you pretend sincerity?
Because if you can
Please at least have the decency
To finish what you start


Turkish Sammy

I don’t need to be “repaired”
While on vacation
I don’t need to be “repaired”
At any time
You are not the first man to come along
Promising to “fix” me
But I will not make that mistake this time
I am the only one to mend me
And I am here only to be restored


From Akko to Qiryat Gat

You can’t recreate the past
She says
You can’t bring it back
Two thousand years
And we reclaimed the land
Gave breath to a dying language
She explains
Where will it end?

But I stand here
Look out over sleepy faces
Mere children
Plucked from the beds of their mothers
Scabs and the boots of soldiers
Where scratches from riding bikes used to be

And I don’t want to sit
I want to stand with them
I want to stand for my love, my nation
I will never know what it’s like to bleed for it
To give a child for its survival
I want to pretend giving up a seat
I am doing SOMETHING

Could I do what they do?
Were I in their boots
How could I not?
And while they’re at work defending “our” country
Our people, our way of life
Is it enough that I repair the world
From the safety of my other home?
Does what I do save mountains, the deserts, and streams?
Trees, birds, flowers, and faces?

Are we fighting terror or fate?
She asks
Are we?

But look at these kids- they’re babies
Boys who have just started shaving
Girls still discovering themselves
All playing at the deadliest game
Waging their lives
Sacrificed by parents
Willing to give their souls

Is there any other way?
Nations put down your swords!!!
It’s time for pruning hooks and plow shares
If only silent screams were enough

So I stand and look out over them
Thanking and blessing each one
“For our souls which are in your keeping”
Because You, Hashem, have promised
Ayeh asher ayeh