Awaken

Never again6 OfirAsif

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

Awaken to what never should have

Taken place,

Yet had.

The millions

Whose lives were snuffed by calculated horror

Tattooed hate,

Enslavement, and

Smoky clouds.

Remember it,

Because such evil

Should not be allowed,

And yet there are the voices

Still denying.

There are those

Who would repeat,

Who relish violence and

Lament “not finishing the job.”

Awaken,

To what never should have

Taken place.

Yet had.

 

 

 

For The Photo Challenge

Fickle Fury

flood2 OfirAsif

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

In the furor of fury

Frothing rage

At the truth,

Do not let floods

Form furrows

In foundations of sooth.

Let the foam

Ferry falsehoods

Like the filth film

From swamps,

And find footholds

In facts

Against fear flashing

Tromps.

 

 

For The Daily Post

For The Long Haul

Ethiopia6 DvoraFreedman

Photo: Dvora Freedman

 

In places too many

On this one blue-green ball,

Children haul

More than the weight of firewood

On their backs,

Big or small.

Sorrow, loss, illness, agony

Needs unmet

Unheard calls …

Yet they are all

Our children,

Their pain is our

Shortfall.

They are worthy of better:

In the now

For the future

For humanity’s long haul.

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

Churn and Roil

churn AtaraKatz

Photo: Atara Katz

 

In the winds

Of turmoil,

Hold on tight

Don’t recoil.

For all change,

Churn and roil,

Shapes the earth

Feeds the soil.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Antidote

not a pet OfirAsif

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

There are whispers

In the Ether,

Toxic stories meant

For loss of hope.

They are phantoms.

Do not listen as

Malignant news

Grabs scope.

Find instead

The breath of valor.

Seek the children,

Help them cope.

Hold up truth,

Unfurl your kindness

To withstand

Slithery slopes.

 

 

For The Daily Post

The Lost Quartet

fishbowl

 

 

He reached into his pocket and rummaged around. “I’ve brought something to show you,” he said, eyes searching mine. “But it’s a secret …”

“Oh?” I offered.

“Well, sort of,” he shrugged as an uncertain smile worked its way into his cheeks. “I took them to school … but I didn’t tell anyone … because we’re not allowed to … The teacher woulda’ taken them away and other kids maybe woulda’ told her or asked to see them and then she’d know …”

I hiked my eyes up and nodded my expectation.

The grin grew but it still held a sheen of sad.

He pulled his fist out of his pocket and turned it so the back of his hand rested on the table, then ceremoniously uncurled his fingers.

Four grains of rice in tiny vials, strung onto a keychain ring.

“They have names on them,” he said reverently.

I squinted and reached for a magnifying glass. Handed him one.

Our heads met over the small nest of palm and he mouthed the words, more sigh than voice.  “Fee, Fi, Fo and Fum.”

A quartet recently eaten not by a giant smelling the blood of an English man but by a feline with a swishing tail who had knocked the fishbowl over and left not one golden scale behind.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Be A Little Foreign

Mexico1 InbarAsif

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

Alike, Not The Same

Red3 AmitaiAsif

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

Incubate Hope

Central Park early spring NY

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

I’d Rather

Flower NYC NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

I’d rather be

As I am

Just in a world

Less fraught

With wrong

And sorrow.

And yet,

If in my druthers

Things were not

Exactly as they are

In both joy and dismay,

What would make me

Be exactly

As I am

Today?

 

 

 

For The Daily Post