Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
In the arms of a sister
Gentle hugs
Soft sang songs
Whispered small things of lovely
A beloved
Belongs.
Beloved
Month: January 2018
Tooth Booth
Photo: Craftgawker.com
“I have a cavity in my mouth!” she announced, elated.
“You do?” I couldn’t suppress a smile. The contrast between the child’s delight and the mom’s anguish was too funny.
“Yeah,” the girl expounded, lisping all the way. “It’s a hole! The dentist has a special magic mirror for my teeth and she looked all over and she said I have a cavity.”
“Wow,” I managed and raised an eyebrow at the mom, who nodded solemnly.
“Next week,” the mother sighed. “I’m not looking forward to it …”
I understood why. This little girl could raise roofs at the mere sight of needles. Just ten days prior the mom had shared with me her mortification at the horrified looks people had given her when she’d emerged with her child from a routine blood draw. “Everyone in that waiting room must have been convinced we were slicing her in pieces,” the mom had vented. “I can’t believe they hadn’t all called Child Protective Services or 911.”
“Laughing gas …” I mouthed.
The mom inhaled and shrugged and nodded all in one. Skeptical and perhaps a little hopeful.
“Not next week,” the child pointed out. “Tonight!”
The mom and I exchanged looks.
“What do you mean, tonight?” the mother asked. “Doc Dee said she’ll see us after lunch next Tuesday.”
“Yeah,” the little girl waved this information away. “But I have a cavity,” she stressed. “So the Tooth Fairy is going to get it first.”
She opened her mouth to give us both a good look before turning to me. “I don’t know why the dentist needed a magic mirror,” she added and her voice rose in puzzlement. “I can see my cavity right away already.”
She held her mouth agape and pointed to a newly lost incisor. “See? It’s right here.”
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The Glorious Unfurling
Photo: Atara Katz
Do not stifle
Truth
Or hope.
Hold fast the
Pieces
That were
In fear
Squelched back
Or were suppressed
By those pretending
To be
Righteous.
Let go.
Let be
The glorious unfurling
Of your being.
It is who you have been
Meant
To grow into
Before
And all along.
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An Inkling
Photo: Dvora Freedman
Minds can whisper
Souls can sing
Inklings
Wishes
Life to bring.
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Trill Along
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Take your song
Right along
Let the tune
Warble on
Let your soul
Be as strong
As the trill
Of birdsong
All day long
Chirping on.
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Due Dominance
Photo: piccsy.com on Pinterest
“Dominant does not mean domineering,” she said. “It does not need to mean oppressive or demeaning.”
“A true leader leads with kindness,” she added. “They govern with understanding and resolve, not ego, hate, or petty revenge.”
A cardboard sign was tied to her walker with green bread twists. It read: “I’m old enough to know how this ends.”
The faded purple blue tattoo on her arm was evidence of having lived through what most would deem un-survivable. She had survived, and came out the other side not only alive but vibrating with a kind of solid empathy that no one would mistake for weakness.
She did not raise her voice but nonetheless it carried. Or maybe it was her energy that created a little centripetal force-field around her. People stopped by. Leaned in to hear more. Some took her photo.
“Authority needs to be bestowed, not taken,” she noted, and I couldn’t help but think that someone ought to hire this little old lady, this walking wisdom slogan-machine.
The sun washed over the sea of people, signs, distant chants, knit hats. A puppy barked and a child’s exuberant peal of laughter carried on the wind.
“Hear that?” The old woman smiled. “That’s power.”
“And that,” she waved a wrinkled hand to encircle the swelling crowds. “That’s due dominance.”
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Tardy Times
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Sometimes I know
The pace of
Tardy,
Slow but
Stubborn,
Will outwit
My best laid plans.
Goalposts redrawn.
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Candid Calm
Photo: Amitai Asif
Be candid
But kind.
Speak your truth
With open mind.
Give no value
To harm.
Be mindful.
Keep calm.
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Blink Of An Eye
Photo: Inbar Asif
In the blink of an eye
Life shifts gears
Age speeds by
To leave tears
On a cheek
As in one glancing streak
Years flash
Full
Of mystique.
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Lean On
Like a dozen
Of sheaves
Full of harvest’s
New hope,
Lean on more
Than yourself
When you’ve been
Faced
With shock.
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Na'ama Yehuda 
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