Sleepless

Blackout curtains tightly drawn
Cracks of light seep in as dawn
Truck growls down the interstate
Sounds and worries penetrate

Basso snores through paper wall
Loosened thoughts begin to crawl
Through a restless, aching mind
And pare away my outermost rind

Between the very late and early hour
Awake, in hunger, I reach to scour
Blue light screens for the fire-cold word
To loosen me from the numbed herd

Ether-loft friends from far-off places
Shitpost, ratio, weave threaded traces
Paths to a crudely enlightened state
Aware, I now accept what is innate

Sleepless, my mind’s eye out of focus
Yet somehow fixed on the desired locus
Throwaway replies descend like rope
Grasping them, I scale cliffs of hope.

Wild Grasses

 

Wild grasses spring underfoot

Bounce and jostle my lax body,

Present me as a gift to the sun.

Lift me, wild summer grasses,

Raise me in your bountiful arms,

Rinse my hair in threads of clouds.

Soothe me, cool wild grasses,

With bright kiss of chlorophyll.

Cleanse me of smoldering ash.

Swaddle, shroud me, long grasses,

Your tentacled touch is calming.

Under green skies, I slip into dreams.

Make me as you, fibrous, fresh,

Nourished by seeping waters,

Alive, soil-sprung, waving.

O tender and sweet summer grass.

Scarlet Bird

Eyelids shuttered to block the morning's glare,
Mind's eyes opened to gaze an otherworld's light.
There, illuminated, I saw a scarlet bird, circling,
Diving, and it called to me in a lyrical song,
Each dancing verse pulled from my rumpled bed
Up to skies, where with mad magic, I could fly.

With my feathery companion, I swam through clouds,
Kissed mountaintops, felt sunlight brush
Bare-bottomed toes and pinkened cheeks.
Suddenly, the scarlet bird turned to me to speak,
Not in chirps, but words I understood,
And it revealed the secret that enabled me to fly.

"Birdflight is freedom: We go where we please.
Cloudtops our highways, rivers our roadmaps.
Your heart sent a message as you slept:
'Rescue me from this earthbound prison, show me
The way to liberation, the path to my true future,
Not one mapped by others, but one that I blaze.'

"I answered your call and awarded you flight.
Released you from gravity's irons, set you alight.
The way before you is clear of expectations
And open, at last, to endless destinations.
Now, birdfriend, let yourself sing and soar.
Look only before you: embrace life's allure."

In an illuminated space between earth and sky,
We danced and sang, the scarlet bird and I.
Then, gently, softly, I drifted down,
With a calm I'd never known, rested my head.
Tomorrow, I set a bold new course to travel,
In flight, my soul's shackles unraveled.

 

Hands

Hands once offered, now stay concealed,

Artful, enticing touches unrevealed.

Hands that had cradled lovers' cheeks

Evade soft kisses over countless weeks.

Hands once greeted by kindly friends

Meet only the cold fabric of pockets' ends.

Hands that had delivered sparkling libation

Clench empty cups in these days of privation.

Hands once tallying up stacks of wealth

Laundered hourly in the name of health.

Hands that had been idle, dripping with sin,

Grope books' spines, caress words within.

Hands once entwined, now kept six feet apart,

Yet still warmed pressed to a pumping heart.

Hands unsheathed by spiritual gloves we wear,

Gather hope as they clasp in soulful prayer.

-- Susan Bernstein, written on April 10, 2020, amid a pandemic

Undisturbed

In my memory, distant though it is, I was undisturbed there.
Surrounded by sand packed hard, smooth as polished glass,
Yet soft underfoot, so it was pleasant to walk across.
At the edges of the sand were waters that gently
Undulated in a rhythm timed by the quiet sliver of moon
Hanging in the sky, and dense thickets of pines and palms.
I could barely see the structures they concealed.

What existed beyond my sightline was of no interest;
I was wholly without cares on that summer night.
As I looked up, I saw a velvet expanse reminiscient
Of even earlier days when, as a child, I could linger
Outdoors until the last, aching breaths of day gave way
To night's embrace; I had no fears of the darkness then.
Perched on a stool on the sand, once again, I was calm.

We sat together, talking of things that didn't matter,
Around a tiny hut topped with desiccated palm leaves,
Inside which stood a man with a slight chin stubble.
He poured us simple, cold, strong drinks that cut
Through the warm, sticky air of an island night,
And gently nudged me into a state of fuzziness,
Of uncaring, of laughter at nonsense, of ease.

There was little to choose from, so choosing was
No burden at all, as it would become in my life,
Over the decades, when I was faced with forks
In the road before me, and forced to decide.
No, on that night, protected on all sides,
By water, forest, sand, soft moon and purple sky,
I felt that my life would roll along as it should.

As we drank to the lapping melody of the water,
To the hum of the flying things dancing in the trees,
We had no idea that our lives would take us
Down diverging roads, never to meet again.
That stretch of sand is now a golf cart path.
The tiki bar was replaced by toilet for bathers.
But in my mind, I and the beach are still as they were.

That long ago night, when all that mattered
Were the feel of condensation dripping on my hand,
The tang of liquor and citrus nibbling my tongue,
Light breezes kissing my neck and shoulders,  
And no distance to drive nor mistakes to be avoided,
Stays with me so many years later, because then,
In that place and time, I was undisturbed.







 

I Was Just Trying to Help You (P'nina)

I was just trying to help you,
When I called you ugly names,
And laughed at you over dinner,
And mocked you on the Sabbath.
You absorbed my insults in silence.
The sad little muffled tears
You cried made me feel a bit
Sorry for you. Almost.

I was just trying to help you,
When I showed you my fat babies,
And made you hold their soggy bottoms,
And asked you to change soiled linens.
You swallowed your envy and shame.
The bloodshot, half-lidded eyes
You cast my way made me feel
Sorry for you. Almost.

I was just trying to help you,
When I urged you to stop weeping
And feeling sorry for yourself,
And bemoaning your barrenness.
Your heart was closed and also your ears.
Nobody could hear your prayers,
And your muffled wails made me feel
Sorry for you. Almost.

I was just trying to help you,
More than you ever knew,
Because I knew you had the greatest
Gifts of all, a man's true love,
The love of a giving God,
A soul with unexplored depths,
Determination of pure iron,
And a voice that could reach
The heavens and open their doors.

I was just trying to help you,
And you hated me for it, I know,
Because I pushed you to pray harder,
And needled you to sing louder,
And salted your heart's wounds
So you had no choice but to cry out
To God Himself to answer you.
Because I did all these things
For you, for all these years,
Your prayer was heard at last.

So I was just trying to help you.
I know you really don't hate me.
And I you know I don't hate you.
Now we are together as a family,
As it should be, and I don't have to
Feel sorry for you anymore. Almost.

I Am Seen (Chana)

I was invisible
When my arms were empty,
My hands left with nothing to hold.
I was invisible as I walked through
Crowds on the market day;
I was invisible as I sat by
My husband at prayer,
His other wife,
Fulsome, fecund, fleshy,
On his other side,
Surrounded by her wriggling brood.
I was invisible in a world
Where my place was to nurture
The seeds of life until they
Burst into fruits and blossoms,
And tend to them as they grew.
Although they did not see me,
I felt their stares.
I felt their disdain.
I felt their rejection.

I was not invisible to one,
To my husband, whose heart was
Expansive and warming,
Who did not withhold his kind smiles,
Tender embraces or passionate kisses
From me, nor my portion,
Which he doubled, without fail,
And carried to me in his cupped hands,
Overflowing with love.
His generous gift to me was love,
And this was visible to her,
And to all the others who could not,
Would not,
See me.

I was invisible to the servants of God,
Who strode, robed and bearded, through
The temple, murmuring prayers,
Readying the sacrifice, tending the bier,
Collecting offerings of coin, grain, kid.
I was invisible to the eldermost one,
The highest and loftiest of them,
Who sat by the doorpost as I walked by.
He could not see me, but he heard me,
And then he questioned me, harshly,
Suspiciously. He asked me if I'd been
Drinking wine? What was I mumbling,
Like a senseless sot, in this sacred place?
He still could not see me.
He could not see my pain.
He could not see my emptiness.

I was invisible, but not to God,
To whom I prayed, with full song
And open heart, with the blood
And bones and breath inside my body,
To see me and hear my cry, my call.
When the priest heard my yearning song,
And felt the earnest desire to be more
Than I was alone, or with my kind husband.
I prayed and swayed and sang to God
To fill my empty cup at long last,
With a blessing to be shared with the world.
The priestly scowl softened, his eyes
Focused on me for the first time,
And he gently nodded.
I was visible.

I was visible that day, and felt
Sunlight streaming from the brilliant
Sky onto my tear-soaked face,
And deep inside, a seed took sprout.
Because I asked the Lord,
He kindly gave me his blessing.
And I shared my child with
All who lived around me,
And all who came after.
My gift was given back to God,
Given back to everyone
Who walks on path to heaven,
And those who stumble on the way.

When he was born, he looked up at me,
And I said that day,
"I am seen."
I am no longer the woman I was before,
But one who has been filled with light,
One who is seen by all around me,
And the one who watches me
From on high.