Monthly Archives: May 2013

An Un-Love Song

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by  Dana Janine Diamond


I wake with tears
beneath the clouds

my soul may well have been there 

it’s been a long, weary journey

from the mountain

to hear, to here.

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I don’t know why she did it

why she converted to this religion

I don’t know why these women

chose a hard life in the corners

of the fields

maybe they just

wanted to be mothers

maybe they just

wanted to be daughters

maybe they just

missed their men

maybe they just

wanted to love

God.

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So we have their story

we have the poem

the love song of all love songs

we were there

when it was written

we were there

when it was told

I have loved

You God

with all my soul                              

I have danced

to Your music

donned the costume

for Your play

I have stayed

the night

many nights

learning Your words

as if by candlelight

I have thrown myself

upon the rocks

for You

I have loved

You

have felt loved

by You

I was Your child

now grown

to half a life


Once a man told me,

one of us is a rock

and one of us is a flower

Damn right I’m a flower.

 

he broke them

he broke them

I woke this morn

feeling the weight

as they came crashing down

I want to dive into the crashing

waves, they’re waving me on

I want to live, to float

not knowing

where I’m going

never wanting to leave

we are the leaves

and the buds

and the honey

and the streams of milk

we are the land and the sea

Rising up to greet us

We are everything

and we are nothing

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My heart is heavy

those who worshipped idols

who worshipped the body of

both meat and milk

the cow is a female

but there are those

who do not understand

the precision of language

who do not distinguish

between a cow

and bull

They are here with us now

they are worshipping their cows

they are worshipping their bulls

they are worshipping themselves

they are burning us down

they are dancing around

burning our hearts

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They are false idols in our midst

Our leaders, they have fallen so low

the women wrap

themselves in prayer shawls

and their eyes burn

on the other side

of the divide

the men throw tongues of fire

the women raise their children

and they know not

from where they came

they should have been scholars

they should have been leaders

they should have loved

the children

more than they loved themselves

they dropped us

they stomped on us

they stomped

all over

all over

all over

God.

 

Our dog is barking

howling, growling

driving us mad

he sniffs out a fox

or some creature

he detests

on the edge

of our home

amongst the weeds

there is no peace

in our home

under the trees

we fall

to sleep

we are asleep.

 song-of-songs

I awake

this morn

with a heavy heart

the animals

have taken over

they have made

our children

the sacrifice

for which they received

no commandment

they have desecrated

The Holy of Holies

they have lied

and murdered our souls

I am here to tell the story

to write the poem

To cry, my heart,

To cry, my heart

 

Oh Jerusalem

We are burning

from their fire                            

they have written

a new song

of rage

they remember the fire

and not the sea

they remember the fire

and not the stone

they remember the fire

and not the mountain

they remember the fire

and not the Glory

they remember the fire

and forget the stories,

there is no all-night toil

that can eradicate

the need for justice

 

She is crying in the streets

She is burning to the ground

She is weeping from there to here

muting the trumpets

to no avail

the tears have not,

are not, enough

to drown the fire

there will be no peace

until justice is done.

 

They have forgotten the poem

they have un-sung

our song.

COPYRIGHT 2013 Dana Janine Diamond ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See Copyright Notice pertaining to thejewishpoetess.wordpress.com

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Four Mothers

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             by  Dana Janine Diamond  

                                                                        painting woman writing thomas faed

A mother is always writing

a new line

even when it seems

we are merely repeating

the same utterances

every single morning.

girl_lying_in_meadow

I never dreamt

when sliding through

blades of grass,

confiding in friends in the open

expanse of green, varied fields,      images

(escaping such chores as hanging

laundry to billow on the lines)

that life might might turn,

like birdsong, and other random notes

sounding in the distance.

We absentmindedly chose

daisies and dandelions,

gathering small bouquets,

as if we could direct life

into the palm of our young hands.

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We speculated with bold determination

and a hint of wonder

on how we wanted

our lives

to unfold

like rose petals

falling out of a love note.

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We were flowers, we were kaleidoscopes,

we got married, we were loved,

we were beaten, got divorced,

got religion, got wise to ourselves.

We were allegories, we were epic,

We loved women, loved men,                                smart_women_read_between_the_lines

held educated places in society,

gave birth, gave love, adopted, expanded.

Between us, we swam the oceans,

traveled the continents,

embraced sun-glorious skies,

spoke our truth, found contentment.

We were challenged

by children

with their unique view of the world,

we grew children

like spectacular gardens.

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We taught the world to sing.

We grew into heroines,

standing in front of new lines,                                  marching-women

throwing out the lines

we had learned by rote,

to bring about changes

we could never

have foreseen

back when we

were sixteen and dreaming,

when we thought

our mothers had a lot to learn

about mothering.

 

COPYRIGHT 2013 Dana Janine Diamond ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See Copyright Notice pertaining to thejewishpoetess.wordpress.com

 

Butter cup

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               by  Dana Janine Diamond 

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In you, sweet, elegant baby,

I pour my love,

last year’s stored up anguish,

old worries and longings,

keen delight, new hope,

in you, sweet, loyal baby,

I find a protector, sensitive,                         20130414_161748_1-1-1-1

someone to watch over

my child with me.

 

 

With you, I stand at

attention, ready to

listen, for the birds

who sing their love

song, so high, bright and clear,

for the rustle of the grass,

as some unknown something

rustles through,

swish, swish, hum, hum

to see and hear

the world, with you.                               images

Your sweet face, so soft,

creamy skin, wise ears,

you take a bite out of this earth,

you take a run at life

with prowess and grace,

free to roll in open

meadows, chew on grass,

as you meditate,

seem to levitate,

with endless patience

for hearing my baby talk,

pillow talk, and occasional,

unusual sense

of humor, you creature

of infinite beauty,             20130430_135500 (1)

sweet baby Buttercup,

who frees my heart,

comforts this Jewish mother, daughter,

fills my cup.

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COPYRIGHT 2013 Dana Janine Diamond ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See Copyright Notice pertaining to thejewishpoetess.wordpress.com