Photo: Inbar Asif
Be a little foreign
To yourself.
Let corners of not-yet-seen
Within
Take a tour
Inside your mind.
Embrace
The unfamiliar parts of
You
Till they become
Another kind of
Home.
For The Daily Post
Be A Little Foreign
Month: March 2018
Jujus
Photo: Samantha Mars
She dragged her book bag up the stairs.
Step, bang. Step, bang.
“It looks heavy,” I noted.
“Yeah,” she huffed and paused to frown in the direction of the patchwork of princesses on the backpack. I found myself wondering whether she was directing discontent at her idolized figures not using their royal powers to, at the very least, summon genie help to manage gravity.
“Want me to help carry the bag for you?” I offered.
She raised an eyebrow as if the mere thought of my definitely-not-princess hands handling her bag was beneath the Disney figures that dignified it.
The first-grader lugged the bag another step and stopped, perhaps to reconsider if there are times when commoners’ help is better than none at all. “Yeah,” she nodded.
I walked down to take the bag from her. The thing was heavy!
“What do you have in there?!” I asked. “Rocks?!”
“Aha,” she nodded sagely, skipped a few steps up ahead of me and swiveled her head to look back at me. “Come faster. I want to show you.”
I lifted the bag (and an eyebrow) in her direction and she giggled. “Sorry… Thanks.”
Once upstairs she indicated I was to clear space for whatever that was, then ceremoniously unzipped the top of her school bag and pulled out a succession of boulders. She placed each with care onto the desk. Several pounds of them.
I waited. The lot looked to me like run-of-the-mill New York stones: mostly dark gray schist dappled with a bit of quartz glint.
She leaned back in her chair and waited. Clearly a reaction was warranted.
“That’s a lot of rocks!” I managed.
“Not regular rocks,” she admonished. “These have magic.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” she proclaimed. “They have real magic. And gold, too. Inside.”
I tilted my head a bit to one side and nodded my interest.
She narrowed her eyes at me, weighing the merits of talking to grown ups about matters of magic and gold. “They can even make your wishes come true …”
“But … ” she regarded me before adding, a bit haughtily and perhaps to punish me for my lack of immediate awe, “you do have to believe in them, so they’ll only do the magic for me.”
For The Daily Post
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Favorite Places
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
There’s no place quite like it
And yet it’s more place than one
Where the surf breathes the ocean
Onto bare feet and sand.
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Invisibly Small
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
They can hide beneath blankets
They can scoot behind doors
They can crawl under tables.
It’s no challenge at all.
They’re a lion
A princess
A pirate,
A ball.
He has friends you can’t see.
They are there
“They’re just small.”
For The Daily Post
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Alike, Not The Same
Photo: Amitai Asif
We all want to be cherished,
To be known by our name.
But like flowers in meadows,
We’re alike, not the same.
It does not do to lump us
Identical, in one frame.
For like leaves of a tree,
We’re alike, not the same.
Varied hopes, many wishes,
Different dreams of acclaim.
Like the shells on a shore,
We’re alike, not the same.
Each of us has the power,
To bring hope or bring shame.
Pick just one of us too early,
And the world’s never the same.
For The Daily Post
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Lush Blush
Photo: Dvora Freedman
In the spring soon to come
As the snow loses hold
The intrepid push up
Unafraid of the cold.
They poke heads
Lead the way
And in rush to full blush
Chase the winter away.
For The Daily Post
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“I Am Waiting”
Photo: mostlymommyhood.com
“I am waiting,” she crouched with jaw ensconced by tiny fists supported on little elbows pressed into small knees.
Her eyes did not leave the circle of translucence and white suds.
“It will be a while,” her momma said. “How about we go have a snack? I think we still have some cookies left.”
“But I’m waiting,” the toddler admonished, as if the wait itself precluded any other thing from being done … not even the consumption of normally-tantrum-before-dinner-worthy cookies.
Then again, maybe this wait indeed required full attention. After all, it was her terry friends being tumbled, wet, forlorn and all alone, so far away from hug and hand.
For The Daily Post
For Photo and how-to: http://mostlymommyhood.com/2012/11/17/the-friends-get-a-bath/
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Incubate Hope
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Hold on close
To the hope
Even if
It is a bit
Tired.
So no matter the noise
Distraction desires,
Hope remains warmed
In soul
Where truth never
Expires.
For The Daily Post
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I’d Rather Find Rainbows
Photo: Amitai Asif
I would rather be joyful
I’d rather hold hope.
I’d rather find rainbows
(Won’t dismiss pots of gold).
I’d rather know light
In the dawn
In the dusk,
Feel the song of the earth
As it peals in my heart.
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No Iron Needed
Photo: Ofir Asif
There’s a crease in my memories.
An obscure line
Of thoughts.
There’s a wrinkle along
The predictable
Plot.
I’ve accumulated crinkles
And crimps
And what not.
It is fine
As it is.
It is what
It need be.
All those furrows and folds
Are what makes me
Be me.
For The Daily Post
Na'ama Yehuda 
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