From His perspective,
everything begins to shift into place;
yet, all appears as chaos to our eyes.
We are granted only a fraction
of understanding of His master plan;
our comprehension, is like viewing
the back of a tapestry, obscure,
until all is revealed.
© 2023 all rights reserved
note t0 reader: poem by Tzvi Fievel
image by Craiyon A.I. image generator
“I will restore My people Israel from captivity.”
– Amos 9:4
Across the generations,
our spirit has been crushed in every nation.
Even now, the Mother of Exiles
is becoming a harlot, like unto Babylon,
leaving us to ponder upon the wisdom of Daniel,
in acknowledgment of our status,
as exiles from the Promised Land.
The dreams of our ancestors,
who looked in hope toward
the distant shoreline of the Goldene Medina,
have been mixed with the alchemy of culture
that threatens to replace the values,
instilled in them by our heritage,
that brought inspiration in the Old Country.
The shift from a common bond,
amongst our own brethren
occurred in front of our very eyes,
as we were disguised from ourselves,
by the lies and factions we upheld,
rather, than honoring our covenantal unity
within the fractured diversity of K’lal Yisrael.
The aftermath
of an overemphasis on gashmiyos,
and a decreasing allegiance to ruchniyos,
coupled with assimilation into the melting pot,
is made visible in the diminishment
of our religious identity,
until the time when our renewal
is at hand.
This year’s a different thing, – I’ll not think of you.*
Even though, I see the future in light of the past. And, although, that light is dim, a brighter one awaits upon the distant horizon. For, when the darkness seems to pervade the very bones, and drenches the psyche with its wear and tear upon hope, the promise of a new dawn becomes even more than a promise – for the track record of the prophets guarantees the fulfillment.
In December 2019, there had been a foreboding in my soul, when the lights of the menorah were dimmed on Chanukah, by the news of another intrusion of darkness, meant to quench the light that has spanned generations; yet, will continue to prevail, until the final triumphant day. Redemption is at hand in every moment of our lives. This eternal insight is what sustains me.
*Charlotte Mew, “I so liked Spring”
Setting aside selfish sentiments,
to focus attention on the divine,
unearthing hidden resentments –
compelling the soul to transcend over time.
Like the waters on the beach,
receding into the blue ocean,
I would swim as far as I could to reach
a distant shore, where ancient memories blend
with a future envisioned by the prophets,
who saw the distant hope on the horizon,
and directed us to seek, as wisdom saw fit,
the entrance into the kingdom.
—– —– —– —– —–
The currents challenge us to navigate,
while the waves crest high with foam;
and, our arrival can only be estimated
by the tears that fall as we roam.
The promise of a place reserved,
beckons to us from that golden shore,
as we are called to rely on our faith,
to guide us through the door.
Our lives, akin to all who hear the call,
to enter into the ark of refuge,
provided by the One who created all,
to transcend the dystopian deluge.
Livin’ life without a net,
who’s to catch me if I fall,
except the One, that I met,
to Whom I’ve given my all.
Renewal of the soul,
at the beginning of the day,
quieting of the mind,
as the light fades away.
Nighttime brings its own song,
in sync with the rhythm of the heart,
reflects upon all that we long for,
dreaming of a new start.
Livin’ life without a net,
who’s to catch me if I fall,
except the One, that I met,
to Whom I’ve given my all.
Every year, the world’s tears flow
like rain from unfamiliar clouds,
until, at the first light of dawn,
we hear Your voice call us home.
Upon the wings of eagles we glide,
in time with the prophetic cue,
brought to the place where we will reside,
in our hearts, singing a new tune.
Livin’ life without a net,
who’s to catch us if we fall,
except the One, Whom we’ve met,
and given to Him our all.
As nations gather together for war,
we will rise above all the flames,
in search of the world no man can char,
the Kingdom that fell is risen again.
One vision to guide us
through the darkness of the land,
One truth to abide in,
as we perceive His guiding hand.
Livin’ life without a net,
who’s to catch us if we fall,
except the One, Who calls out,
I request of you, your all.
© 2022 all rights reserved
Somewhere,
amidst the broken-down dreams
of a nation bereft of its heritage and pride,
amongst the scattered ruins of a once thriving
society of angels and men, seeking harmony,
lies the spark within, the light of renewal
that will bring home the downtrodden,
who still carry faith in their hearts,
and walk with the strides of righteousness,
alongside the saints of olden times,
who have not forgotten their G-d above,
nor their moral responsibilities below
on an earth that teeters and totters,
reels and shakes from the revolution
of an immense proportion
that spins the globe into chaos.
In the distant future,
when the angels fly overhead,
we will be lifted into the air,
only to be resettled in Paradise.
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We are pilgrims on this earth,
like our father, Abraham –
destined to wander, with a purpose,
only to be realized in Olam Haba.
While here,
amongst the thicket’s
tangle that ensnares the soul,
relief is at hand, before
the darkness takes its toll.
The muddied waters
will turn crystal clear,
and cloudy skies reveal the sun,
concealed behind a veil
of tears, washing gently down
from the face of G-d.
Joy, will pour forth
from the fountain of salvation,
at the heart of Israel –
as we make our way home
to the land of our forefathers,
where the Kingdom will shine
forth like 10,000 suns.
© 2022 all rights reserved
Living in the belly of the beast,
rising up from the vacant grave,
reaching towards the light from the East,
an angel from Heaven appears,
with a mission to save.
Crying out from a land of tears,
dying to ourselves every day,
casting away all of our fears,
gaining ground over the years,
as the enemy retreats the other way.
—– —– —–
Opening up to the possibility,
of hope becoming permanently ingrained,
indelible as ink, on a deed of civility,
or the silver lining of a cloud,
that is translucent with sunbeams.
The sunflowers in the land of the living,
sway in tune with a heavenly chorus of angels,
and a myriad of people singing
the refrain of the song of Moses,
shining like golden bells.
© 2022 all rights reserved
At the sound of the shofar,
we will respond to the call,
“Prepare the way for the King.”
The masquerade will be over,
when darkness will no longer fall
upon the face of the earth.
At the beginning of dawn,
when the first light will appear
on the new horizon,
we will be given vision and insight,
to see beyond the mirror of self,
into the eyes of the divine.
© 2022 all rights reserved
Breathing Inspiration 