III. Soul's Eye
THREE POEMS
196.
Like a kidnapped infant
Who wonders where he came from,
The soul is wrapped in doubt.
Framing subtle questions,
It hunts for hidden signs
To penetrate the shroud.
And yet, when secret thunder
Follows a lightning flash,
The soul forgets to ask.
*
204.
My spirit’s strong enclosure
Composed of structured earth,
Constrain this trembling heart!
Protective cage of bones,
Defend these fragile veins
And calm their frightened pulse.
But at the crucial hour
Do not obstruct my soul
When it must journey home.
*
186.
Silver chains of wisdom,
Descending link by link,
Have reached my outstretched arms.
I strain to grasp the handles
To elevate myself,
But something pulls me down.
The quicksand of my folly,
The swamp of vanity,
Confine me to the ground.
—David K. Weiser
***
SOUL’S EYE
With my soul’s eye I saw
the past, the inner structure
of the present.
The eye is the window of the soul.
But the soul’s eye?
Mind focuses
the soul’s eye.
The third eye opens,
draws and pulls.
Tingling.
Seeing what?
Ah, to know that …
—Michael E. Stone
***
PUZZLE
My whole dazed life
I implored begged
wailed for saints
ecstatic gurus
to awaken rescue
instruct how to live
teach me to write a psalm
that knits pain
into comfort shawl
draft a map endow
guide me from dark chasm
walk me into enlightenment
Know now I have
forfeited precious time
drained myself of fortitude
believe I have been given
another chance today
to avow venture trust
resurrect myself from
the murky quagmire as it
presents itself
Have awakened to notion
I am a puzzle
a breathing box
pieces big and small
each day one or two
emerge some clear
others gauzed
no instructions
but over time a painting
begins to brush itself
Now know I am invited to
end my stalling estrangement
Mark Nepo a wise poet
says the earth began
as a dish shattering
like you dear reader
I am nudged to fiercely
gently tenaciously
glue my pieces together
— Marianne Lyon
***
THE HARD WAY
One on his way
Has not yet reached his objective
He walks and walks with effort.
He sees a rocky mountain
Trees and shrubs
Previously seen.
Everything is new
As on the day of Creation
Before the eyes of the walker.
Step by step
He progresses on a hard way.
He seems utterly alone
But God sees him
Sees his movement
And He leads him
by the hand.
— Hayim Abramson
***
BS”D 17 Iyyar 5780
How to allow the mystery
Not to distract me,
To divide it into portions
For the days that are yet to come,
Like the seven good years.
How to allow the mystery
To renew itself each day,
Like the quiet that crowns
The gleam of light that shows
At the break of dawn,
Like the silences that contain
The fountain of voices,
Like the light
That is kindled in your eyes.
How to allow the mystery
To reveal an ancient secret
That walks in the cool of the day.
— Tziporah Faiga Lifshitz
***
TWO POEMS
And man is like a tree planted on the abyss
Thoughtless
Like a dearth in the earth
Dearth in the earth
Why man?
Man without anything
Planted in the world
Without land
Like a dry tree
Blocked from thought
What is man
Man without land
Like a desolate thought
Planted in the earth
On the abyss
*
Off the coast of China
in the Pacific a ripple
Long-distance horses
neighing in silence
Stormy waves
shout into the distance
like a butterfly effect
Someday perhaps
you’ll know the world’s existential
loneliness
It doesn’t stay in your personal space
as you requested
It breaks barriers
Join it to the fate
of peoples
The butterfly and the horse
have done their part
and you have remained
in your place
behind them
And then choose the optimal distance
— Shmuel Warhaftig
***
Saint-Saens Violin Concerto
The
soul strives to stay afloat, singing its own sweet song,
While
the world crashes around it.
Soldiers assail the walls of its fortress
And
night encroaches.
Carefree and solitary, the soul of art whistles insistently its tune
Standing with a brave heart, it speaks its spangling, joyous melody,
Upholds its symmetry of marble columns.
But
yet again the dark trumpets blare over the castle’s walls and
A
forest of colors shivers with terror.
Morning finds the soul still dancing, raising itself
Along
paths of lightness, wearing freedom like a feather.
Crowned with a fragrant garland of jasmine petals,
It
leaps and twirls,
And
inhales deeply the breath of life.
Time
freezes, the crisis is over, the fortress has withstood
The
marauders. Over the bulwarks all the birds of heaven
Twitter at once to accompany the soul
In
its new song of conquest.
—
Norma Felsenthal Gerber
***
TV Guide
Totally Vicarious
Terifically
Vituperous
Do you watch it
while you eat?
Do you eat while
you watch it?
Tantalizingly
Visceral
Titilatingly
Vulgar
Do you watch it
while you read?
Do you doze while
you watch it?
Temptingly
Voyeuristic
Time wasting
Vortex
Does it share
your bedroom?
Take up your head
room?
Turn it off
please:
Smash it on the
floor
Throw it in the
trash
Beat it with a
stick
Walk it out the
door
Tune up your
vision
Clear your head
A slave no more
Your master’s
dead!
—Batsheva Wiesner
***
SABBATH TABLE
Enter the haven of my apartment
step into the spacious salon
Focus on the beauty of the center table
adorned with white brocade cloth
Lovely six-petaled white lilies
stand erect in blue glazed vase
Seven glass cups filled with golden oil
await lighting in the ornate silver candelabra
White silk embroidered with royal blue
covering two loaves of braided breads
Shapely decanter with sparkling red wine
next to a silver goblet for the sanctification
All proclaim
the Sabbath is ready to enter
Welcome the gift as it descends
gratitude for the tranquility
Peace granted
from the One above.
— Simcha Angel
***
Self-Suspension: Were I Ever Absent
All human d stances
Would be d_ stances
Were I absent
Noth ng
Could hold together even as a word
Were I absent
Ex stence
Would break right after an
ex
Were I absent
L fe
Might turn out no more than a typo
Were I absent
T me
Would stop moving towards me
Were I absent
H story
Would become a h(ushed ?) story
— Changming Yuan