Poems

by Mickey Chalfin

what is Shabbat?

we are here for something
maybe a different thing
for each of us
we could take a poll
or have a discussion
who would speak up
who might hide in the shadows
who might be glowing
who might be confused
who might think like me
where all of the above apply
meanwhile, life goes on
and Shabbat spills over us
faithfully
every Shabbat

taharah

he began to die
last night
he fought it
as we all do
some of us win
for a while
he won for 88 years
and now he lets us
bathe him
warm water on cold skin
into a fresh white
shroud
we clothe him
for the last time
and lower him
into the open pine casket
we say good-byes
as lids are lowered
and sealed
forever

carrying full tray
of inedible fresh treats
tripped onto the floor

drinking fine port wine
a painful experience
wasp sting on the lip

cheer nevertheless
colored lights in the succah
not a leaf unturned

guests on yellow lawn
fall harvest hanging from hut
quiet sounds of autumn

hot dishes are clean
cat on sleepy hostess lap
house lights almost off

9-24-2002

letter from kibbutz gal-on

a soldier dies
just before the newest
cease-fire
a mayor comes
from jerusalem
to the gravesite
his tears stain kibbutz rocks
the color of solomon's temple walls
we live
in its shadow
in its light
and in its tears
we are drowning

generations keep coming

in the shul
on yom kippur
in my body and lines
i have become an elder
in a front row
babies are nursed
by mothers half my age
good friends are in their eighties
hebrew has been in me
longer than forty passovers
and there is no turning back
i'm older than the president
older than baseball heroes
even my kids have their own lives
they own things like cars and computers
they pay rent in cities i haven't even been to
they have best friends for life whom i haven't met
my kids on this planet somewhere else
and i'm still here where they were born
i'm not too old
just way older than i can accept
each morning
when i languidly rise
and add another notch
to bedpost and face

11-7-2000

after some degree
of candle lighting
wine, and challah
the many blessings
led to pasta and eggplant
and my questions
about god and man
about life, history, and time
we struggled with answers
almost getting there
but...
when dessert arrived
our cosmic consciousness
refocused on the chocolates,
the sponge cake, and on the
chocolates again

kabbalah

twenty-five men
mostly jewish
gathering themselves
as a clan
at shambala

into open packets
thus to receive
the kabbalah's matrix
we let this 700 year old tree
sink its roots
into ours

with ten equal branches
pointing arithmetically
one to the next
we follow into
this forest
question by question

the teachers have come
to excite
with some degree
of frustration
they guard this secret
they so much
want to reveal

perhaps one drop
creating one ripple
reaching one cell
of my darkest thoughts

i drove home
earlier than the rest
dawn was not far off
and my cats were
waiting

Succoth 5760

company came
to our decorated desert hut
fruits reflecting smokey sunlight
hung from woven branches
as the full moon
playing checkers
entered

the rabbi turned edible
morsels of ahi tuna
skewered peppers
mushrooms and voices
from past wanderings

now the high moon
is quietly watching
as cats refuse to sleep
under this night's canopy
of heat

miracles over miracles
elijah may sing
for the rabbi
under the next
full moon in her birthplace
music only she can hear

shabbat in the sun

or on the couch
or playing with:
cats
computer
quilts
cooking all in all the glorious
choices are ours
completely
we say, "it's a beautiful day"
whatever the morning window
reveals
sun is easily embraced
rain and wind are
passionate
all conducted by
an infinite baton
rising and falling
to the swirl and beat
of our spirits

the standing crowd singing
as the torah passes by
kiss by kiss
touch by touch
the boys and their mom
all blood and sinew and eager
sharing their studies of hebrew wisdom
bringing their very application
into a community's heart now throbbing
ecstatic and proud

we gather up the tunes
and wipe our tears
silenced by perfection
stilled by perfection
fed by perfection
as a lotus blossom
floating upon a lake
of winter sky

Mickey Chalfin lives in Albion, CA with his wife and 3 cats. Mickey's Email is mc@mcn.org

© 2002 Mickey Chalfin

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