Tag Archives: soul

February 26, 2024 · 7:30 am

And Still

by Merri Ukraincik (Edison, NJ)

I see the beauty, though of late, only by half.

With one eye open,

the other shut,

I peer through the slats

of the window blinds,

my breath fogging up the glass.

Obscured, but there.

The beauty, I mean.

The Shabbos sky still shimmers.

Even the apples go on sweetening

in a bowl on the kitchen table. 

Then by mistake, I lift the lid on

the second eye and the ugly,

scene by scene, tears at my heart

until it’s tattered like an afghan

come unfurled, one thread at a time.

Yet my fraying Jewish soul still believes,   

G-d has not given up on us,

the smoke and ash notwithstanding.

Hope remains – for something more,

for the good that may still come

in this threadbare world, in our time.

Because unless you close both eyes

and seal the slats of the blinds,

the beauty is hard to miss.  

Merri Ukraincik is an award-winning writer whose work has appeared in numerous publications online and in print. She is the author of the book I Live. Send Help.: 100 Years of Jewish History in Images from the JDC Archives. Her memoir Wondrous Things: On Finding Joy and Faith in the Messy Business of Being Human is in search of a publisher. Follow her at https://merriukraincik.substack.com/ or on Facebook.

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November 6, 2017 · 9:18 am

My Brother’s Death

by Mel Glenn (Brooklyn, NY)

He was my younger brother,
perhaps older in wisdom than I.
He had a gentle heart and caring nature,
never forgetting a birthday or anniversary in our family.
He loved nature and history, and a good joke,
and loved being outside making sure the birds were fed.
In his younger days he loved riding his bicycle
through the streets of Brooklyn.
He loved old movies and could tell you
every John Wayne movie ever made.
He loved comic books,
especially Superman and Supergirl.
He loved his mother with a bond
that was true and enduring.
His passions were simple, and anybody who met him
enjoyed his quick wit and genuine smile.
According to the rabbi at the grave site,
as the body is set to be lowered into the ground,
it is believed that the soul hovers
over the pine box and the deceased
can hear your final messages.
“Goodbye, Gabriel, my brother,
I wish I could have given you a happier life,
but failing that, I wish you a full afterlife,
of walking pain-free and strong,
wherever that may be.”

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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Filed under American Jewry, Brooklyn Jews, Family history, Jewish, Jewish identity, Jewish writing, poetry

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May 23, 2011 · 7:33 am

Hawking Sees No Heaven

by Mel Glenn (Brooklyn, NY)

Hawking sees no heaven,
a fantasy, he calls it,
“for people afraid of the dark.”
What, no Shangri-La for the children,
no safe haven for the doubtful?
His pronouncement manifests the force
of a prison door closing on a life sentence.
Mr. Hawking, I surely respect your intelligence,
but how can you be so sure?
We are more than machine
with triple AAA batteries gone dead.
In the small, sheltered space
before you fall asleep
do you not think your soul migrates
to a higher, more peaceful place?
Sleep may be death’s counterfeit,
but we dream, do we not?
Why not then for eternity?

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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