I went out to the hazel wood, drawn by the elaborate nomenclature,
of its trunks, branches, and leaves, as if something stirring in the wind
called to my soul. Because a fire was in my head, I needed to find a path, never before taken through these woods.
To my dismay, every way was already trodden with the footsteps
of my predecessors. For, my ancestors have passed by this way, on horseback, in carts, walking side by side. From the shtetls of Europe to the Golden Land of Opportunity. Assimilation entangled me.
Until the woods opened up to a grove swept clean of the debris
from past ages, raked clean by some heavenly angel, who with tears, showed pity towards me and my destiny. I have always searched within and without, above and below for a place to go, that I can call home.