words from the soul
Your Jerusalem is so similar to my Jerusalem. Your Jerusalem glows. Your Jerusalem torments and teases. Your Jerusalem sings. Your Jerusalem loves and hates and lives in a constant state of disorder and indecision. You write about your Jerusalem and I feel connected to your experiences. I see how you touch her stones. I understand … Continue reading My Jerusalem
Worthless. That’s the word. I have been looking for something to wrap the feeling I’ve found festering inside me, bubbling up to the surface where I wish it away with a half-hearted attempt to access my vast toolbox of self-help and therapeutic gadgets I have amassed over the last decade. Worthless. The word stops me … Continue reading Worthless
My grandmother ran out of Poland towards Russia with only the summer clothes she was wearing and spent the next five years seeking warmth in a world that had frozen over. I was raised on her story, as well as all the stories of my generation’s grandparents. We were their proof that it had been … Continue reading Dry eyes
Sometimes, when I am feeling particularly reflective, I imagine my life as a boy. I wonder if I would make the choices I make today, had I been a boy. I think that I would, because I believe my gender plays only a small part in my human make-up. Maybe the road here would have … Continue reading The Wicked Daughter
The words of my youth ring in my ears as I meticulously scrub the leavened bread from the inside of my drawers, the corners of my floors…the confines of my soul. Redemption… Freedom… I make my lists and feel the pleasure of checking off tasks and listen to the tap, tap, tapping at my memory’s … Continue reading Redemption?
Colloquially Speaking 