Oct31

Calling it how I feel it

Posted on October 31, 2023 by thejewishpoetess

by Dana Janine Diamond

I don’t want the Gazans
to suffer
well, perhaps not
the half million adults
who don’t like Hamas,
nor the children
for the sake of
whatever childhood
they have
a strip
stripped
filled
to bursting
with human
shields
for pure
evil
such as
the world
has known
before
Before
they deliberately,
personally
murdered our babies
tore apart
their tiny bodies
with bullets and
other cruel weapons
nowhere to hide
the girls ran
but despite the music
the women were raped
Mass Rape
in
the killing fields
next to their friends’
dead bodies
taken hostage
bleeding young
women
children, babies,
dementia-addled elderly
families
boys, men
they sang
all beloved
Holocaust survivor
who didn’t survive
not in the southern border
turned Hamas slaughterhouse
not in Gaza
where Hamas’s victims
were tormented, executed
hostages
all
fodder for tik tok
and now the world waits
with breath, unbreathed
as clock
ticks down
to the consequence
of the endless
history
of hating
the Jews

and they danced
with candy
in their streets
celebrating
their terrorists
salivating
the longed, yearned
for
not peace
nor freedom
rather
the sweet
taste
of
Jewish
blood
Oh, how deliriously
happy
they were
mouths grinning
the metallic flavor
on their tongues
the acrid aroma of rage
at the outrage
that we exist.
naturally, brutality
was a cause
for celebration
who could blame them?
the Palestinians
perpetual, imperpetuity
are victims
it must be true
all the victims of the world
say it must be true
blame the Jews

Who was Jesus
but the original self-
hating Jew
and the gospels
joined the choir
Who was Mohammed
who simultaneously killed
Jews
while befriending them
deriding them
even the little children
delighted with glee
throwing stones at Jews
true history
too many sorrows
to recount
we were burned alive
driven from every land
and
yet
and
yet
we survived
leaving everything
we loved
behind
we wandered and wandered
and wandered and wandered
too many times to count
and wondered
why the world
lacks
the utter
courage
to not blame
and hate
even secretly so
even hidden
from themselves
(because they can’t
face
themselves)
minuscule
us

Oh, cry
for the Palestinians
their humanity
is in agony
abandoned
by their brothers
and sisters
fifty Muslim countries
said no
we don’t want
you
stay put, don’t leave
don’t come
our doors are closed
your terrorists might get in
heaven forbid
let Israel take it all…
and to their disappointment
they discovered
too late
that even
the virgins in heaven
didn’t want them
all that hate
for naught

So, world,
so-called friend
and outright foe
you rally
we are singing
mourning
through the night
throughout
the morning
we grieve
unabatedly
perhaps, maybe,
conceivably
some of you
will cry
with us
open
your lips
to pray
out loud
with us
it’s possible
a Jewish woman
can dream
and nevertheless
we regather
for now,
ultimately
revive our dead

Oct15

Calling it how I feel it

Posted on October 15, 2023 by thejewishpoetess

Standard

by Dana Janine Diamond

I don’t want the Gazans
to suffer
well, perhaps not
the half million adults
who don’t like Hamas
nor the children
for the sake of
whatever childhood
they have
a strip
stripped
filled
to bursting
with human
shields
for pure
evil
such as
the world
has known
before
Before
they deliberately,
personally
murdered our babies
tore apart
their tiny bodies
with bullets and
other cruel weapons
nowhere to hide
the girls ran
but despite the music
the women were raped
Mass Rape
in
the killing fields
next to their friends’
dead bodies
taken hostage
bleeding young
women
children, babies,
dementia-addled elderly
families
boys, men
they sang
all beloved
Holocaust survivor
who didn’t survive
not in the southern border
turned Hamas slaughterhouse
not in Gaza
where Hamas’s victims
were tormented, executed
hostages
all
fodder for tik tok
and now the world waits
with breath, unbreathed
as clock
ticks down
to the consequence
of the endless
history
of hating
the Jews

Sep25

A different, sweet year

Posted on September 25, 2022 by thejewishpoetess

Standard

By Dana Janine Diamond

The indoor life
can be fruitful
hard
as the acorns that
fall from trees
outside our windows

sometimes, often when the sun
Is too strong
we keep the curtains
closed
even that
is too vulnerable

but I can remember
every tree
I’ve seen
most of them if
not all
I recall
the wind,
the lick
of the ocean
the colors
that I loved

even though
we forgot the flowers
this year
my imagination
more than makes up for it
I never forget flowers
so that’s the year
it’s been, I suppose

instead, I’m drawn
to berries
found hidden
under the leaves
unadorned and charming
without stones
soft, small and plump
the things I like to
add for filler
have become all

is it okay
to feel the emptiness
is it sad
or simply what’s needed
to prepare for more
I think that’s
the place of contentment
as hope
slips in
the door.

Sep26

Sea Change

Posted on September 26, 2020 by thejewishpoetess

Standard

By Dana Janine Diamond

It’s hard to remember
every memory during
a pandemic
much seems beyond
your grasp, submerged
in the gentle, rolling
silver blue waters
parted by
a sliver of light

Or perhaps
it’s the passing
of the years
the travail of loss
the propensity
for trauma
bestowed
upon us

We are sailing
coming about!
echoes of joy abound
and warnings
from many years past
Lake Algonquin, Erie,
the Niagara and Michigan
the Mediterranean, Caribbean
Atlantic Ocean
Long Island
Sound
the Pacific and the Hudson
calm and carefree
or so it seemed
lighter days
on all the waters
of my life
have brought me peace

We seek, we seek
we pursue
she advised us
to cast anger aside
toss it overboard
we have to
flatten
ourselves
to avoid
the boom

In other words
learn the language
of humility
and agility
and fragility
develop wind-
chafed skin
breathe it in
set forth
and let it go

We’re not alone
we do what must be done
and trust
we prepare emotionally
silently pray
for miracles
they do come
reflections
light and angels
we are not alone

It’s more than what you see
it’s more than what you feel
the love unfurls
effusively
inside you

an understanding grows
that the view
from starboard and port
are as different
as seashore
and seafloor
as seaboard
and seabed
we don’t fathom
each other
we might have glimpses
but we hear
and see
everything differently
we are each speaking
our own
languages
absent translation

Yesterday, I
came to learn
I can forgive
the blinding blindness
if not the storm

Jul4

2020

Posted on July 4, 2020 by thejewishpoetess

Standard

by Dana Janine Diamond

We were never free
it was a fallacy
we magically wished
to be true
we conjured up
an imagined history
to make all
seem real
we wrote songs,
dressed ourselves in parades
red, white and blue,
set off fireworks
to go boom
and yet, still
could not wake up
all the children
all the colors
we took a strap to
America, yearning to breathe free
longing for kindness

Jan16

Starburst

Posted on January 16, 2020 by thejewishpoetess

Standard

By Dana Janine Diamond

In order

to encapsulate

to begin to describe

my love,

a mother’s love

for her daughter

we usually start

with the stars

I love you more

than all the stars in the sky!

We must reach beyond

our own confines of earth

and even ocean

we have to imagine love

like an energy

beyond our real comprehension,

the stars fall

and they burst with excitement

they rise and set

shine and grow

absorb and reflect

all of our wishes

aspirations

they have complex relationships

with each other

they have stories to tell

there are times

when I say

I love you to the moon and back

but the stars, the stars

appear to bloom

like roses

glimmer and sparkle

dance

lift us up

give us hope

love, love, love, this love

Once upon a time,

I said, welcome princess

and you came into being

prayers, my song pulled you

from the heavens,

your destiny was clear as day

you were meant to be a star

you’re the essence of light

you are power and joyful

resilience and comfort

luminous

stars always sing

you are everything

we look up to

for Rosie on her 18th birthday with love
COPYRIGHT 2020 Dana Janine Diamond ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See Copyright Notice pertaining tothejewishpoetess.wordpress.com

Sep29

Nu

Posted on September 29, 2019 by thejewishpoetess

Standard

by Dana Janine Diamond

I would wish you a sweet new year. I always have. The memories are gone, the future unknown. We have trees and stars and pink sunrises and pink sunsets, and lights sparkling over the river that is ever moving. There is a wheel turning somewhere in the sky, dispensing mazel. We stand under it, like we do with mistletoe, our palms outstretched, ready to catch it when it falls, ready to kiss the godliness within, ready to find love. We anticipate the embrace of love.

We carry with us a pink afghan. When I was younger, I knitted a beautiful afghan, all shades of green, from dark to light. And I carried it with me, everywhere I went, from room to room in my homes. We all have many homes. Some are waiting to be found.

So, here we are, searching. Our souls are slowly moving a flashlight out over the darkness. Our ancestors have been lighting candles for thousands of years. God knows the apple’s been in play since the beginning. Oh, but the honey. If only the sweetness would cover everything, would last. I remember dipping my toes into water and feeling refreshed, exhilarated, soothed.

This year will either make us or break us. It will take all of our strength just to lift the slice of apple with our fingers, drench it in a bit of honey, and slip it into our mouth. It will be tart and sweet simultaneously. As Jews, we never forget the bitterness; it’s always there. The joy can be elusive at times.

It feels like we’re living out the same story over and over again, peering out into the distance for happiness. It could be there, just over the horizon. It could be hidden within us, because we love. The journey could really be gratitude, and so we’ve arrived.

The challah is our reminder, be grateful. It’s full, like a soft cushion. Don’t be fooled by the harder, outer surface. I tell myself this. It’s our path to joy.

If I could raise my glass, I would wish you a sweet new year. Abundant and precious, filled to the brim with new hope.

Aug25

We traveled here without knowing

Posted on August 25, 2019 by thejewishpoetess

Standard

by Dana Janine Diamond

I don’t write anymore

I’ve lost myself

in the struggles

in the suffering

in the whiplash

of daily life

I don’t write anymore

of sweet, perfumed blossoms

of the feel of skin touching skin

air moving ever so slightly

above the clouds

where love lies nestled

I don’t write anymore

of longing

of hoping

of finding succor

I don’t even write

of brambles and gardens

of moonlight and wishes and soft skies

of summer squash and bright

carrots strewn across

the fields below

I don’t dream anymore

of hot balloon rides

of trying something new

of listening to the radio

with the windows down

I barely remember open spaces

they build little prisons for us

make it so

we barely notice

this is our home

the tears on the keys

until I don’t write anymore.

Jul20

Caught between the sun and the moon

Posted on July 20, 2019 by thejewishpoetess

Standard

by Dana Janine Diamond

Low tides bring subtle pleasures

miss those days

when gentleness

washed over us

forget walking on water

and other prophecies

I’d be grateful just

to walk

in the sea

arms outstretched

to God and love

and sheer happiness

it all didn’t just

disappear

into the horizon

or follow the sunset

off the edge

there were those

who stole everything

I don’t clock sunsets

or sunrises

I don’t walk shorelines

anymore

but I will again

you may have held

your temporary victories

but the motherfuckers

won’t win

not on my watch

not with our hearts

not against our strength

you’re sinking

we’re collecting seashells

we’re floating above

the shimmering waters

we’ve got this

we are deep waters

Jan19

Birthday

Posted on January 19, 2019 by thejewishpoetess

Standard

By Dana Janine Diamond

Echo, play Joni Mitchell

and I’m singing along

back in my college dorm

she cheered my love

nursed my heartbreak

I’m on my green circles couch

in my family room

with my cat and dog

waiting for

the slight scratch of the needle

as it kisses the album

listening to the music

every day after school

I barely remember what I learned

back then

but I know every song I listened to

the lyrics, oh the lyrics

they have filled my mind

for a lifetime

I ran outside in the morning

danced in the afternoon

in my living room

where my family gathered

to host book clubs

and discuss liberal politics,

my french piano in the corner

my brother played guitar

with his friends

I pontificated

about passing the ERA

knocked on doors

won debates

still, still…

gossiped on the phone

for hours with girlfriends

twisting the cord round

and round

and poetry, always poetry

I read Catcher in the Rye

in elementary school

and asked my teacher

in all innocence

what a boner was

he turned bright red

(he’s a bestselling author now

so he turned out okay)

my life is a series

of connections

the night I lost

my virginity in college

I took a long, late night walk

under the stars

in the moonlight

and the first person I saw,

told, was JD Salinger’s daughter

she congratulated me

it all makes sense

in retrospect

of course the feckless

curly, red-haired boy

broke my heart

he wanted to be a chiropractor

to this day I don’t really trust chiropractors

I loved my twenties

married the love of my life

in secret

in a pinky-peach, soft Betsy Johnson dress

he’s back running Greece now

but we talked and kissed

for hours and hours

in Village cafes

for years

I owned the streets of NY

if you ever lived there

you know what I mean

riding in limousines

to deliver champagne

gifts from Steve and Ian

thanks for keeping

them out of jail

we danced and decorated

and celebrated

and I loved Hilly

how not to,

edited stories at MS.

Gloria was luminous

God, my twenties were fun

but then the poetry called

I needed to understand

the mysteries

of this world,

walked that path

with my loyalty

to a fault

escaped, but not before

bruises on my face

on my soul

I look back and wonder

how did I endure that life?

And yet leaving religion

took all of my courage

and then some

I’ve been molested, raped, punched

spat on (fuck you Rabbi ;))

but my glowing spirit

outshines all you

could ever do

because I’m wild and precious

I’m a colorful garden

still growing

my magnificent rose

she is everything

I leave my words as rose petals

my loving gift to you