21.03.2024

When my mother died, my father spent his time waiting. 

He watched TV, and he waited. 

He had his coffee and bowl 

Of Dole grapefruit every morning, and he waited. 

He slept each afternoon for hours, ate his Lean Cuisine dinners, fed Jack, then was back in bed by eight each night to watch more TV before falling asleep by 9, only to wake again at seven, and do it all again. 

When Carrie died, I thought

All that was left to me was to wait. 

To fill my laborious days with

Small distractions. 

I wrote

And I waited.

I slept

And I waited. 

I scrolled on Facebook, and YouTube, bought things I didn't need, tried to fill the hole she left, and I waited. 

On October seventh,I woke to a world that had

Torn off its mask,  and

I couldn't wait anymore. 

It's why I'm coming home. 

Not to die, but finally to live. 

I have waited long enough

To

Become

No more; it's time instead,

To be.

I have signed the papers. 

I will sweep this heavy, grey dust from my wings, and

Fly     Again

Toward blue, open air.

06.03.2024 ii

In a dream I saw myself 

High in the branches of a

Cherry blossom tree      

I read a book

My mother's book, I was so Young, unjaded; free

I said be

Ware, those thin branches are stronger than they look

They'll break your bones, even as they

Break beneath you

And at this tree's base

You'll lie bleeding

Defeated

These beautiful blossoms have 

Tasted others' blood

After all, 

This is why they are this particular shade

Of pink. 

06.03.2024

Behind me, it stretches 

Sometimes frayed, but never detached,

This root

Five thousand years long

There are knots here and there of varying size and complexity, and

Sometimes parts, worn so thin as to be imperceptible to the naked eye

The colours change

From greyed browns to the

Vividest orange

––

Today 

There is a new orange sundress– bought on a 

Cold, rainy March day in New York for 

Slow April coffees in Tel Aviv

And hot, humid, impatient waiting at bus stops 

And (Hopefully) 

Slow evening walks along the tayelet

––

It's true, I have lost so much

What I'd thought were my actual roots

My parents

My love

Artifacts of lives lived 

My sense of safety, and

I will lose yet more

This is only inevitable

Yet the root will remain

Anchored deep in five thousand years of soil 

And when finally, I too 

Am soil

This is my prayer:

That fresh shoots should spring up from what was me

And the young eat the fruit I'll have left behind.