Tag Archives: Joy

Sep26

Sea Change

Posted on September 26, 2020 by thejewishpoetess

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

Sep29

Nu

Posted on September 29, 2019 by thejewishpoetess

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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.

May14

Gift

Posted on May 14, 2017 by thejewishpoetess

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By Dana Janine Diamond

I could make my mother laugh
I can make my daughter laugh
I can laugh to myself
and this makes me
invincible
still vulnerable
I am traveling by gondola
in a narrow waterway
flowers blooming everywhere
roses, peonies, ranuculus, hydrangeas
queen anne’s lace and baby’s breath
hot pink and cream, riotous colors
light glistening, shimmering
on the water’s surface
the sun and moon
are about to kiss
I, we,
don’t really know
where we are going
we just see love
I have to believe
the angels
are laughing with us
and love will save us
love saves this impressionistic
shabby, tie-dyed
magnificent
world
I have to believe
we will prevail

Aug13

Neshama’s Song

Posted on August 13, 2014 by thejewishpoetess

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by Dana Janine Diamond

When one soul cries
we join hearts
and listen,
Shush! Pay close attention…

There’s a song in Neshama’s heart
and it goes like this
Boom di da boom boom
Tra la la la la
Sing me the sweetest melody

Blue, green, yellow, and red-wing birds
circle overhead to rejoice
all the bright and soft colors
spread their wings

This is the way the world was meant
to be
the seas
are jumping
in a white-foam tizzy
the trees are clapping their leaves
the stones are skipping
into the mossy ponds
to swim with the guppies
the winds are breathing their soft breeze,
The morning stars are arising
The angels are stomping
Singing and shouting their glee

For there’s a girl with a Cookie
and Lemonade stand
with a sign turned upside down
on the side of the road
and we all pull over

We turn the radio down
to hear her sweet song
we are breathless
with anticipation
to hear her sweet soul song
she was always, always
meant to sing
notes so delicate and powerful
she stopped the sorrow.

Her song asked us to dance
and it went like this…..
Twirl and twirl and
Spin and spin
Cartwheel in the air
and land, hands held high!

Together, as one,
The way the world was meant to be
the way the world was meant to be

In Neshama’s song
We all live
We love
when the morning stars sing together and all the angels of God shout

with credit to the Book of Job…

To donate to my friend’s daughter to enable her to get the help she needs, visit here:

http://www.youcaring.com/tuition-fundraiser/help-neshama-go-to-school/216679

Jul4

Country Love Song and Other Journeys

Posted on July 4, 2014 by thejewishpoetess

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by Dana Janine Diamond

I didn’t know I was going to fall in love
I probably should have
when I discovered the legend
of Granny White
who left the Carolinas
in the middle of the night
Lucinda walked here
on foot
through rugged, mountainous terrain
some nine hundred miles
I drove nearly one thousand miles
to get here
through boring, snow-dusted Virginia
not quite the same

She took her grandchildren
in tow, widowed woman
I don’t know how she survived
yet she arrived
here, at 60, opened up her
apple cake stand and
soon her Inn
where presidents and generals laid their heads
she began anew
well past the prime…

of what king makers believe
women can be
for today’s art and commerce,
men live longer
and women merely age…
perhaps revenge
for our added years
and the miracle of life?
Some people really know
how to hold a grudge.

But I digress,
let no injustice
be done
when the headline is
She ruled this town!
She is a park, a pike,
an historic site
How many women have this
to say
for themselves?

I think this city
can welcome
a single mother
I surely think
it can
Bless its heart

You see,
I had a vision,
a strong intuition
that I was meant
for the sea.
This place
was part of my pilgrimage
on my way
to County Waterford or Cork
or perhaps The Giant’s Causeway
along the Antrim Coast (or at least perchance Key West.)
My home was to be made
upon the cliffs,
so that each morn
I would breathe
in the salt air
and let the tides
pull words from my soul
to float out
across the ocean
where the poetry of kindness
could flourish and live…

So this was just
my stopping ground
my stomping ground
as I danced away
from constraint
slipped free
of the shackles
I had placed
on myself
some twenty years past.

Each day has been a revelation
each day I awake
to the whisper
I’m free, I’m free
I’m gloriously free
and the air is so sweet
with honeysuckle and arugula
an undefinable mystery…
The leaves sway
the cardinal sings
the bunnies greet me
as I start down
the stone driveway
to come home.

The trees, the woods
of the country
they see me naked
as I arise each morning
throwing caution and pajamas
to the wind
if someone has a telescope
a few acres away
then I guess they got lucky
unless a woman,
a mother in her prime
is not their idea of lucky
to which I would have to say,
Oh my! Oh me, oh my-ah.
Phenomenal woman.
Because we cannot forget

in County Galway
they buried 800 children
in a septic tank
some twenty years ago
the Fallen Women were shunned
and punished, by the nuns
for the sin
of having been alive
of having taken
a giant bite
out of life
or maybe for falling victim
it didn’t matter to them the who or why,
the single mothers
and their children
were starved and suffered.
These Irish babies need a resting place.

They say this place
is a good ol’ boy’s town
those are the songs
the world wants
to sing to itself
but I believe in Granny White
and Naomi and Ruth
and in the power
of a mother telling her stories

In greeting the wide, open countryside
where farm tables and horses coincide
delectable fresh-grown feasts await,
herb goat cheese salads, avocado popsicles, sate
seemingly effortless
that’s how it’s done here
with music in the air
I sift through jewels
as the old man in the aisle over
picks up a guitar and
picks out a tune
I walk outside,
the gentle summer rain
starts to come down
my child and I
make our way
over the brick cobblestones
the light in the sky
could be grey
or shimmer incandescent,
the endless farm land and luminous
evening stars whisper
I have fallen
in love
with this place
I have fallen in love with this place.

Sep25

Ready to Fall

Posted on September 25, 2013 by thejewishpoetess

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by Dana Janine Diamond

One morning, I walk out my door

find the air cooler

than it was the day before,

a light, minty leaf dances

toward me, immediately

the promise of pumpkins,

creamy butternut squash and sturdy gourds,

line up on the farmer’s table,

ready to be taken home,

hoping to be picked.

There was a time

I would follow this adventure,

but now I pause imperceptibly,

go about my day.

Gather the harvest

bushels of apples

Delicious, Golden, Granny Smith,

sweet, sour, sliced, bitten

check for bugs or worms,

polish to a fine shine,

until we’re tucked in again

for the night

the epic cover

protecting us from a baking sun,

that was once summer.

Soon we will hear

the crunch under our feet

a sky decorated and punctuated

with a lover’s hand

amber, maple-shaped, fiery red,

speckled light brown on pale, faded yellow,

cheerful, everlasting smile,

green becomes sage,

seemingly, suddenly,

bright orange turns to rust.

Get ready to cook,

your grandmother’s recipe,

or one from a book you read long ago,

but no one knows your secret.

It could be coriander seed, or cumin,

or just more thyme, and the realization

that an entrée can be served without anything hidden.

Begin again.

It seems, when asked,

why did a woman veer off her path?

(when the whole world knows

we know the directions)

The answer is loneliness.

Now that is the real curse,

is it not?

Busyness can play the charmer,

contentment and even occasional happiness

can snake its way through our lives,

productivity and grocery shopping

can purchase complacency

for a time,

until stock has its turn

at being taken,

rather than stirred briskly.

I am the esrog,

I am the Lulav, too.

Complex, complicated and mystical,

shaken and held

for very short bursts.

You bring me forth

maybe give me a kiss,

inhale my deep, provocative,

exotic scent,

caress with your eyes,

select a firm grip,

as if to never let me go,

as if I am so close to your heart

that a whisper is all that is needed

to beckon me nearer,

and I am there, inside you,

or did I have that turned around?

For now, seemingly suddenly,

I am being sent

to all ends

of the earth.

In my travels,

I have seen your suffering,

felt your joy,

absorbed your pain,

known your love,

I am sitting in this hut

alone, ‘til finally

even the walls

around me are torn down.

I might survive

as a house plant

(for a time)

I might even find myself

pricked with cinnamon sticks

and retrieved from behind

the glass case,

or the drawer where you’ve stored me

to add a certain sweetness

as the candlelight holds back the

darkness,

and a family embarks on their poignant week.

Where to begin,

as I bring my offering,

I seek to understand

and I experience an existential rejection

with every wrong occurrence,

a broken canister, wasted food,

my child’s tears, missed opportunities

to pray, with domestic chaos

swirling around me,

a storm of anti-Semitism

raging in the streets,

I still see the colors

raining down.

I am lying on a bed

of drying up leaves,

caked somewhat in mud,

You’ve got me right where

You want me

readying myself

to stand up

and get clean.

And as I begin

the washing up

that inevitably follows every

holiday or excursion,

I take soap to dish,

scrub in a circular motion,

rinsing and inspecting,

feeling the calm sense

of satisfaction return

as lemony scents

fill the air above

the kitchen sink,

and while my hands are moving,

moving, ever restless,

my mind soars

with possibilities, decisions, new ideas.

Esrog by Michoel Muchnik

Sep2

The Book is better than the movie

Posted on September 2, 2013 by thejewishpoetess

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By Dana Janine Diamond

In the movie, 27 Dresses,

the lead character

is forever

a bridesmaid,

never more

she keeps all

her tulles, taffetas, silks,

squished in a closet

that refuses

to close,

such ugly dresses

so that she’ll never

seem more

beautiful than the bride,

her role

will always be

to stand aside,

smiling on

as the ceremony

unfolds,

billows like sails

unfurling

against the horizon,

until the last scene…

We sail out to sea, we sail out to sea,

through storms and clarity

we believed you

when you told us

who to be.

We turned away

hush, hush, quiet voice,

we swam further out

away from the land

to the silence

we were lost,

looking for peace

sweet voice insistent,

clamoring

for peace.

Can you hear her?

Can you still hear her?

Those who wish

to be blinded

will enshroud

themselves in the darkness,

of the deepest black harbor,

and those who wish to seek,

will lift the veil.

We are here, we are here,

come gaze upon our beauty,

we are here, we are here,

let us take our souls out to sea,

cup a palm to our ear,

hold a seashell close and dear,

and on the wind they will travel

their voices, they will travel

one hundred and twenty strong.

We are all in this boat together,

stay afloat, stay afloat,

never fear,

for married we are to be,

we are all brides before our God,

we are all whispering words of love,

out to sea, out to sea,

souls’ never-ending story.

As we sing

our notes

float to form

a crown,

our notes

form the sweetest song

round and round,

we go

to the Wall,

we go

to the Wall,

for You.

In the Book

of Life,

the heroine

doesn’t stand off

to the side,

anymore…

She soars

through

the sweet, salt air,

as joyous waters

rise up

to wish her well,

over every wall,

she travels

to place

a crown

around

You.

Jul22

Decanting Tu B’Av

Posted on July 22, 2013 by thejewishpoetess

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by Dana Janine Diamond

I’d like to think of Tu B’Av

as a sacred place,

that space

in the fields

where grapes are stomped

into becoming

the song I pour

down your throat

and mine

our garments intertwined

so that no one is seen

as less

and everyone

becomes…

lovely in the light

for our hope is full

as the gleaming moon.

Our beauty cannot be stolen

nor given,

I hope you look deeply for us

in the fields

we are waving

our arms

snapping our fingers

dancing to the ageless rhythm

with our

souls outstretched

to God,

for our lovers

on this earth

hovering near the vineyards

will wrap themselves

around us

the ocean rocking,

swirling side to side

in the bejeweled glass

waiting to be

lifted

held

tasted

savored

embraced.

Decanting

leaves age and sediment behind

as the sweet scents arise

we choose

to breathe.

At last,

at last

to see

our quiet longing

Feb15

On The Trail of The Scent

Posted on February 15, 2012 by thejewishpoetess

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By Dana Janine Diamond

I’m tinder

and I feel frail,

a little tender,

from the spaces

between your lines

I could be reeling

or being reeled in

should be reigned in

I’m kindling

and I feel fine

perched on a bough

peering this way

and that

to see

which way

our souls

descended

where it was written

we were intended

to meet, to imagine

the subtle flutter

of what could be

and if I climb back down

and shimmy off this tree

twinkling in fairy lights

because that’s how

this girl will always

see it

I’ll wander off

twigs snapping

beneath my feet

Cavalier king spaniel puppy lapping

in circles by my side.

Seems the dogs

were always destined

to have my scent

and it would not matter

If I’m permeated with vanilla,

birch bark or dewberry,

it’s the me of me

the you of you

the shiver inside

I sense

close by

in the distance

Feb14

Pearl Seed

Posted on February 14, 2012 by thejewishpoetess

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By Dana Janine Diamond

I believe

God needs me

I believe

I am the smoothest pearl

the sweetest juice

the tastiest morsel

on the most Glorious tongue.

I believe

God needs me

I believe

I could be

the lightest petal

in the daisy chain

tied up and wished upon,

garland crown scrunched on,

spritely and meadow-free,

a dandelion cradled, held

in the smoothest palm

of the most resonant hand,

puff, poof, I’m gone.

Merely a flimsy whimsy thrown

by the pebbles, to the ground,

skipped over and stepped upon

precious trinket unseen

glimmering in the sun,

I shimmy and shimmer

to find my treasure,

like so many ships

slipped out of their slip,

circling, lost at sea,

journeys bequeathed,

for one girl or woman,

just like me,

I believe

God needs.

As an ivory cameo rests,

her features forever in repose,

perpetually calm,

we carry on.

So, about my song

should I even get started?

on the sound I make

when I give charity

the fluidity of melody

my coins are heralding

in the Heavens

oh, but would if I could

hear the trumpets, the drumbeat,

the insidious rhythm so natural

to the heart of me

would if I could hear

that I believe

God needs me

all that is around me

here in me

and I dance

ever moving, shaking

shaking, shaking

the maracas in my head

can you hear it, too?

Such bliss, the waves,

the beads, the most

perfect pearl,

prayers rising aglow

freshly dusted like snow

angels’ wings

we make, grow, sing

breathe upon the air

balloons flying off

to nowhere, colors now everywhere,

I believe

there is no telling

where you might find it

in the noise, in the quiet

your essence matters

with form or without it,

your poem-song-need,

the quintessential seed,

Those Loving arms

are yours, hold on now,

you know you’ve got it.