Not too hurried / to catch the full moon / slide above a navy cloud
Of course we want Moshiach / We have waited so many years / But how does one express this? / How should one show he cares?
And on this Pesach, may the mouth speak light.
While matza crumbs dance / across the crisp table-cloth
Of course it’s possible I’m crazy. / It’s also possible that sanity / Is what is killing us.
My dreams – strangled, my hopes – trampled / ensnared in shadows.
So if you merit to parent a challenging child / Do not despair if his nature seems wild.
How can I refuse to act / when their existence hangs / like an autumn leaf on an oak?
An interview conducted in poetic verse? It could only be a discussion about the latest edition of The Deronda Review poetry journal.
For years the mitzvas weren’t mine.