Tag Archives: God’s plan

August 22, 2022 · 6:30 am

Afternoon at the Holocaust Museum (from a dream)

by Annette Friend (Del Mar, CA)

There you were Mom and Pop,
middle-aged, well-dressed,
on a bustling afternoon
in the Holocaust Museum.
So odd, since I’ve rarely seen you
appearing so alive
since you’ve both died.

I was so enchanted seeing you again,
I barely thought of context at first,
you both docents on display at this exhibit.
I think you were excited to see me
although you were quite preoccupied
showing spectators around
the Jewish apartment in Berlin containing
the average artifacts that fill all our lives,
except these rooms were turned to rubble,
up-ended couches, dishes smashed,
curtains slashed, lives ripped apart
at the seams, by black-booted beasts
on a sunny April afternoon in 1939.

You both smiled seraphic
at the rapt crowd,
radiant as angels,
which maybe you were,
as if, finally, you both were detached
enough from the horror,
even as memories
encroached on all sides.

Maybe you’ve embraced all the relatives,
friends, whose lives were leveled
years ago at vicious hands of Nazi brutes.
Has that holy reunion given you a type
of peace to be able to tour
through the past without shattering
into shreds?

Or perhaps God in His inimitable wisdom
sat down with you both on His white mantel of clouds,
patiently gave you His explanation for His silence,
willingness to wait out the Atrocity
while sitting on His hands.

Perhaps that explanation is enough,
if only in the afterlife.                                                            

Annette Friend, a retired occupational therapist and elementary school teacher, taught both Hebrew and Judaica to a wide range of students. In 2008, she was honored as the Grinspoon-Steinhardt Jewish Educator of the Year from San Diego. Her work has been published in The California Quarterly, Tidepools, Summation, and The San Diego Poetry Annual.

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Filed under American Jewry, European Jewry, Family history, German Jewry, Jewish, Jewish identity, Jewish writing, Judaism, poetry

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January 7, 2019 · 8:07 am

Pretzels on sand dunes

by Kae Bucher (Fresno, CA)

My daughter makes huts out of pretzels
while I chew on thoughts of yesterday

where we once wandered
(as fragile as seashells on desert sands)
and gathered manna

today,
we eat bread and cake
under palmy fronds

tomorrow,
meat, fish,
or hard-boiled eggs

I chew on this in a hammock under a painted sky
which floats up and over
sand dunes

all tribes kept within Yah’s heart,
where an eruv nest holds eggs
about to bloom.

Since graduating from Fresno Pacific University, Kae Bucher has taught Creative Writing and Special Education. Her poetry appears in The Rappahannock Review and Awakened Voices Magazine and is also slated for publication in The Seventh Wave. Her first short story, “The Lost Names of Kaesong,” will appear in the upcoming edition of California’s Emerging Writers. You can read more of her poetry at www.bucketsonabarefootbeach.com.

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Filed under Israel Jewry, Jewish, Jewish identity, Jewish writing, Judaism

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September 14, 2015 · 7:00 am

Sarah Laughed

by Natalie Zellat Dyen (Huntington Valley, PA)

Sarah laughed
When God said she’d bear a son.
Sarah, her skin a road map of her life.
What pleasure is possible? she asked,
For one as old as I?
What good can come
From this time? This body?
Impossible
And later
Holding impossible in her arms
Sarah laughed once again.

And what of you
Whose path runs long and deep into the forest?
Too late to turn, you say.
Too old.
What if I fail?
To you I say
Listen to Sarah’s laughter
To the possibility of laughter.
To the words in your heart,
Not in your head
The words that say
Anything is possible.

Natalie Zellat Dyen is a freelance writer and photographer living in Huntingdon Valley, PA. Her work has appeared in Philadelphia Stories, The Willow Review, Global Woman Magazine, Intercom Magazine, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Schuylkill Valley Journal, Wordhaus, and other newspapers and journals. She has just completed her first novel. Links to Natalie’s published work are available at http://www.nataliewrites.com.

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December 22, 2014 · 9:43 am

God, Jewish and Otherwise

by Mel Glenn (Brooklyn, NY)

God, Jewish and otherwise,
tell me this:
Some poor people
decide to get coffee
at a small café in the heart of Sydney,
and by some accident of time,
they become hostages and victims, some dead.
Some poor students
decide to attend class
at a small school in the heart of Pakistan,
and by some accident of time,
they become murdered and maimed, some escape.
Tell me it’s part of your plan.
Tell me it’s not for me to know why.
Tell me it was destined to be,
and I will tell you,
I have to believe it’s sheer randomness,
the luck of the draw, the flip of the coin
because I cannot for the life of me
understand how you could allow such evil
to grab your poor creations by the throat
and squeeze.

The author of twelve books for young adults, Mel Glenn has lived nearly all his life in Brooklyn, NY, where he taught English at A. Lincoln High School for thirty-one years.  Lately, he’s been writing poetry, and you can find his most recent poems in the YA anthology, This Family Is Driving Me Crazy,  edited by M. Jerry Weiss.

If you’d like to learn more about his work, visit: http://www.melglenn.com/

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April 8, 2013 · 6:00 am

Union Square Chess

by Mel Glenn (Brooklyn, NY)

“Sit down, son, and play a game of chess.”
“I’m not very good at it.”
“This is not a tournament, just a game.”
“Of chess?”
“No, of life.”
“I seemed to have forgotten basic strategy.”
“Well, you can forget about all that.
You think you can plan your moves?
Only the Grandmaster can do that.”
“There’s a celestial Grandmaster?”
“You bet there is. He sets up the board,
but it’s up to you to play the game.”
“But what if I make a mistake?”
“No problem. Everybody screws up once in a while.
You just have to play your game, straight through.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all there is to it.
Just sit down and play.
You’ll do fine. Just decide what moves to make,
but don’t forget, He controls the board.
Your move, son, the clock is ticking.”

The author of twelve books for young adults, Mel Glenn has lived nearly all his life in Brooklyn, NY, where he taught English at A. Lincoln High School for thirty-one years.  Lately, he’s been writing poetry, and you can find his most recent poems in a new YA anthology, This Family Is Driving Me Crazy,  edited by M. Jerry Weiss.

If you’d like to learn more about his work, visit: http://www.melglenn.com/

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November 5, 2012 · 8:38 am

Chance

by Mel Glenn (Brooklyn, NY)

In Atlantic City,
wind and water claw at the boardwalk,
quickly reducing it to kindling.
Chance, like a coin slipping into a slot machine,
registers winners and losers on a neon screen,
complete with ringing bells and bright lights.
Late-leaving patrons before the evac orders
hurry to try their luck at various games of chance.
Blackjack, roulette, slots, wheels of fortune promote
both the odds and rewards of landing
on the right side of the table, or
race the dealer to twenty-one, but outside
the howling wind offers a bigger crap shoot
with the jackpot winnings of your life.
Storm shifts a few degrees north: survival.
Storm not shifting a few degrees south:
your house in ruins, your cars destroyed.
God’s plan not understood as
His throw of the cosmic dice rolls
as unpredictably as your next flip of the cards.
Who by fire, who by water?
Or both.

The author of twelve books for young adults, Mel Glenn has lived nearly all his life in Brooklyn, NY, where he taught English at A. Lincoln High School for thirty-one years.  Lately, he’s been writing poetry, and you can find his most recent poems in a new YA anthology, This Family Is Driving Me Crazy,  edited by M. Jerry Weiss.

If you’d like to learn more about his work, visit: http://www.melglenn.com/

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