Unwritten

There are two kinds of people.
Those who respond to
a writing assignment about
their own lives
with blank looks
at blank pages –
what can I possibly write
about my life
that others would want to read?
Those who respond to
a writing assignment about
their own lives
with blank looks
at blank pages –
what can I possibly write
about my life
that others wouldn’t want to read?

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Citation

on the oddness of being misrepresented to shadchanim

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It’s weird to hear your own words repeated.
It’s even weirder to hear yourself quoted.
But nothing beats the weirdness
Of hearing your words quoted and repeated
And wondering, “Did I say that?”

But when you hear someone
Someone you love and trust
Relaying your words to others
Again and again
And you’re not sure you recognize those words
You adjust your view of reality
To accommodate the impossibility
Of the betrayal of trust and love

And then what gets adjusted
Is your view of yourself
Until you’re not sure you recognize
The self of you
Anymore.

Indiana Jones at Sinai

Written on June 5, 2014, Shavuos 5774, after watching Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark in a theater.

Every Shabbos
I wake up
thinking about how you
all are in that mode
of
peaceandserenityandrestandholiness

how I
will be packing up my books
heading to school
the library
the park
to work
to write
forbidden activity
forbidden thoughts.

I got used to that.

Strange detachment
images at the back
of my mind
me
separate.

I got used to that.

And then.
You plead with me
that overused argument
I was there
at Sinai
I said I accept
I can’t deny it
because five million witnesses
three and a half thousand years
no one says
“my father didn’t tell me that”

I cry.
I argue.
I rail.
It’s not enough
for me.

Fate’s a bitch
Shavuos only days later
I wake up
thinking about how you
all are in that mode
of
peaceandserenityandrestandholiness
add a dash of accepting
Torah and God
with a pinch of
crying because
I’m not there.

The used-to-it-ness
goes away.

Fate’s a real bitch.

I’ve been waiting
for this
for so long
now
breath stolen
the golden glowing ark
as Indiana
strains
lifts
the badim
vestiges of awe
as the line of men
proceeds
with the blue velvet cloth covering it

I’m back
in seventh grade
learning about
the joy of
recovering
the aron with the luchos
bringing it to Shiloh
the dancing
the celebration
the dead
who dared
to touch
the holiness

villains delighting
in opening the
holiness
look in wonder
crazed joy
the gold spirit emerging
swirling throughout
Indiana knows –
don’t look Marion

and then the spirit inside
burns
melts
flesh
amid screams
and terror
and holiness

and the gold spirit
ascends
in a tornado of
light and fury
the chest is rising
the aron
ark of the covenant
is rising
returning to god
just like he said
I feel
relief

but
it’s only the cover
it crashes back down
along with my insides
covers the ark
conceals
holiness
terror

Indiana and Marion
survived
because they didn’t look

and I think I’ll never get used to it.