How very convenient this distance—
because of matters in your life
you find me appalling
and because of issues with myself
I happen to agree.

Little else need be said, certainly
beyond the barest niceties
that swathe our days in ways
of civility, enabling time to pass
with slightly less suffering.

Except that here and now
this me still breathes as beads
of angry sweat cloud my brow
and my skin shivers with fear
of a life unchanged.

The sky is bluer this day
than I have seen for so long,
and if I could, I would gladly
reach up and pull it down
as a gentle warming shroud.

5 thoughts on “change

    • That means so much to me, David. I know, I wrote to you before that I felt I had found a brother in Israel. I did not mean that flippantly. I look forward to everything you write and how it makes me feel or think of so many things. I am so grateful for all that we share, mate. I am grateful that, as you shared today, your kaddish evolved from what you had expected, from a single introductory poem to a meaningful enduring act of exploration–while honoring your father so beautifully, also exploring your creativity and myriad forms of expression. I adore that about your writing, my dear friend. How incredibly cathartic this all must be, I can only begin to imagine. Like what you wrote about the watch. My God, that was touching–that incredibly significant act of healing, which still honors your father, yet also honors your own growth and life and creative self. Sorry, mate, I’m just going on and on here.

      Liked by 1 person

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