Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Israel: From the Desert to the Holy City

Wednesday, April 10th, 2013

The night spent in the goatskin tent felt like an eternity, even though we actually slept for about 3 hours total due to our late night jam session. The ground was hard, the air cold and thin, but even through this, it was still a great feeling to wake up and feel surrounded by new-found friends. It really was after that night that I think we all stopped being people on a trip and became friends.

6am. Wake up call. Everyone slowly and regrettably rolling out of their sleeping bags and wandering with blurry eyes toward the bathrooms to try to reassemble our appearances for the coming day. A sea of girls packed the small bathrooms brushing teeth, doing makeup, brushing hair, trying to find all the articles of our clothing; it really made the entire morning process of preparation seem a fool’s errand so early in the morning and with no space to get ready.

Eventually I gave up trying to prep myself to look slightly human again and realized it was a failed effort. The darkness we had woken up to slowly altered itself as the great fiery ball that is the sun slowly lifted itself up from its hiding place to peek over the sandy mountain tops. The sand under my feet, the sounds of the camels and donkeys, and the slow progression of people toward the breakfast area was interrupted when the sun revealed itself. Everyone around me stopped to watch its steady ascent. It was magnificent, bathing the desert land in light, cascading over sand dunes to fill the valley with light.

It was a wonderful morning to be alive.

Breakfast was in a big tent and was very welcomed. Great food, real fresh goat cheese, all assortments of bread and fresh eggs along with their amazing tea. The tea was much needed again because the long night in the cold and the lack of sleep had ruined my health and I felt terrible. It felt like someone set my throat on fire and I could barely speak at all. As we all sat at the table making fun of my hoarse voice and enjoying the awesome Bedouin breakfast I felt something hit me. Looking up I saw a  couple of birds perched in the ceiling rafters and realized to my horror that I had just been pooped on by a bird. Horrified and everyone else laughing, I tried to figure out how to save my only outfit I had for the entire day ahead. Luckily I was able to get a new shirt but it was just such a comically horrifying moment.

After breakfast we all headed back to the buses which were bathed in the sunrise’s glow as well to continue our journey onward.

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At 7am we left camp and drove deeper into the desert valley winding our way past sand dunes on empty desert roads. We were headed to Masada, an isolated rock plateau atop a great desert mountain that overlooks the Dead Sea and the vast Judean Desert. This place was once the site of one of Herod’s great palaces which he greatly fortified, but fell under Roman siege ending with the tragic suicide of nearly a thousand jewish people to avoid enslavement at Roman hands. This tragic tale took place on top of this pillar of earth high above the desert earthen floor and we hiked up the Roman Ramp that had been built to over take the fortification

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We hiked up in the shadow of the mountain, only seeing the sun bathed desert light peaking around the sides of the great mesa. Coming out between stone pillars, which were thousands of years old to the flatten plain where once a great palace stood, bathed in early morning sunshine, was an amazing sight to see.

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Directly under the sun, even this early in the morning, had us all seeking out shade to learn more about this place.

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We talked for a while about the history of this place and then set out to wander along the ruins of this ancient place.

The world felt silent from up there, so high above the valley of the Judean Desert, it was one of my favorite experiences on the entire trip. The hot breeze lifting the dusty sand of ancient worlds to twirl around us as we plodded along. It felt like God was in the breeze, suspended in the air all around us, caught between the bricks of each ruined building.

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One amazing thing we went and saw was down some ancient worn steps into what used to be the water storage area; a great pit of a room with extremely high ceilings that we all walked down slanted steps to reach the bottom. Light poured in from the outside sunshine and illuminated the room in such a magical way, it was impossible not to feel awestruck.

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I stayed behind and lingered there in the bottom of that pit, placed my hand on the square of light let in through the hole high above me. It was an amazing feeling to touch the smoothed out stone that everywhere else felt so cold and hard, but right there where the light touched the ancient wall, was warmed by the sun.

After leaving the water storage area we went back out onto the plateau where we all sat in a huge circle and just meditated for a short while. We sat in silence, just listening and feeling the Israeli sun on our faces. I touched the ground and felt the sand run through my fingers, dusting them with archaic remnants of the past. Listening to the wind brush past us, you could almost hear God whispering in your ear. The wind felt like the breath of God, escaping like a sigh across this place so high above the ground.

When we opened our eyes from the meditation each person had a little envelope from their loved ones before them. We had some free time to go be alone, contemplate, and read our letters wherever we pleased. I sat curled up in a nook of the archaic ruins facing over the cliff side into the canyons far below.

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After I read my letter, I stood at the canyon’s edge and with a couple of other people, yelled over the sides of the plateau into the valleys below. Our voices were carried far away, filling the crevices of the canyons all around us. Lifted high by the wind, our voices rang out across the Judean Desert. It was crazy to see the power of our voices as they echoed around us.

Afterwards, before we descended via the Snake Path, which is a huge winding trial leading down the other side of the plateau, we all took a group picture, the first that included our lovely Israeli soldiers.

 

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The descent, which most people take a cable car to avoid, was one of the longest hikes I have ever experienced  It took an eternity to reach the bottom, but it was still an amazing trail to hike down. Once at the bottom we ate lunch in a cafeteria area. I am willing to admit I actually ate McDonald’s, just see what it was like and to my great surprise it was actually good. It was nothing like McDonald’s in America, it felt like real food, real burgers, not gross tiny hamburgers. It was huge and really tasty. While we waited for our bus we all played a giant game of ninja and a new game we learned the previous night called Sheep-a-Sheep. It was hilarious and a great way to wrap up our time at Masada

The Dead Sea was our next stop and one many of has been highly anticipating the entire trip; a chance to float in the Dead Sea’s salty waters. This place is the lowest elevation in the entire world at 423 meters below sea level. So we all excitedly went to change into our bathing suits and ran down to the beach for a float. This experience was not at all what I expected it to be.

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The color of the water was a beautiful green and blue, which contrasted wonderfully with the red and orange rocks on the shore. The first difficulty we encountered was actually getting into the water itself. It seems benign enough in the pictures, but what you don’t see in this picture are the salt deposits covering every rock, making sharp crystalline structures that just love to shred feet if you aren’t careful.

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This is a more accurate display of what it looked like and felt like walking barefoot on these rocks and trying to make it into the water as waves were splashing against our wobbly legs. Once in the water and off our feet, which were now on fire from the salty water getting into the numerous cuts on our feet, we felt the bizarreness that is the Salt Sea.

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Everything you hear about the Dead Sea is true; it is bizarrely salty. It feels like gravity has been reversed or you are floating on air. You have to float on your back and once you do it is such a weird experience. It feels like nothing you ever have felt before.

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It was really very fun to paddle around and float with everyone out in the water.

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However, the salt that makes the Dead Sea such a cool experience is also your worst enemy. The very first thing they told us getting off the bus was, whatever you do, don’t put your head under water or get water in your eyes or mouth. I don’t think I understood how very serious they were. Within moments of being out in the water my lips were covered in crusted salt and everyone could tell something was weird about the water. The water was slightly wavy and would splash little bits of the water on our faces and it burned, literally burned. You couldn’t rub the hurt from your eyes because your hand were covered in the water. There was nothing to do if you got even the tiniest splash on your face. People had to get back on shore and wash out their eyes in a serious way. Most people didn’t even stay in the water very long because the waves kept getting the salt in people’s’ eyes. After a short while everyone was out of the water with bloodied feet and burning eyes. The medic really had her hands full bandaging people’s feet.

It really is an amazing example of the beauty and danger of nature. It was extraordinarily beautiful and I am so glad I did it but everyone was pretty ready to get very far away from the water after only a short while.

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We all ran to the showers to get the burning salt off and headed back to the bus with new battle wounds but satisfied in having this very cool, if not slightly disastrous experience. Once back on the bus one of our peers actually passed out because he got so dehydrated from the salt. It is funny looking back on how much of a disaster it actually was, but I don’t regret it for even a single moment.

Tired from the already really long day (remember we had been up since 6am after a 3am bed time) and having hiked in the heat, swam in the salt, we were all pretty exhausted. However we had no time to rest, Jerusalem, the Holy City was out next destination.

We arrived in Jerusalem on a hill that rose above Jerusalem and from it we could survey the whole city. At the overlook we were greeted with a huge welcoming party along with many other Birthright buses. There were drummers who gathered our attention by blowing on horns made out of actual horn. They began to sing and drum as everyone stood and watched; their shadows cast on the ground around their feet.

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It didn’t take long for everyone to join in singing and dancing in a giant circle around the drummers a top a mountain that felt like the seat of the world in the holy city of Jerusalem.

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After the short festivities were over, the dancing and singing stopped and we were officially welcomed to Israel and Jerusalem by the breaking of Challah and sharing it between every single one of us as we watched the sun set over Jerusalem.

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To stand above the city of Jerusalem at last, after coming so far, and having seen so many things already, I could feel my heart expanding knowing: I had made it to Jerusalem. We could see the Dome of the Rock in the distance and the Western Wall (Kotel) along with all the winding labyrinthine streets that created the thatch work masterpiece that is this holy city.

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The very first thing we did in Jerusalem was go and visit one of the expansive open air markets. It was a truly amazing experience. It is one of my all time favorite things to visit market places in destinations that I have never visited before because it provides such an intriguing glimpse into the actual essence of this newfound place.

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We all split up with about an hours time to explore wherever we pleased throughout the giant market place, which was a series of intersecting streets about four streets wide. I split off with Plia and my friend Tia to explore. Since Plia, being from Israel and having visited this very same market several times,  knew exactly where to go, what to see, and what food to eat.

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She was a fantastic guide and made the experience so much more special than it already was, being able to watch these Israeli natives communicate in Hebrew together. One of the very first things Plia showed us was Halva; an odd sesame snack that is kind of like a flaky fudge that has a large variety of flavors. This picture below which looks reminiscent of cheese is actually a large variety of flavors of Halva ranging from coffee, chocolate, cinnamon, poppy seed, orange, vanilla, and all kinds of flavors.

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She even showed us this wonderful character, the Halva King who runs this stand. He is there almost every day wearing his little crown handing out samples of his Halva. It was so interesting and something I had never experienced. I loved Halva (I even brought back some with me to the United States) but it really is something you either love or hate. It is very difficult to relate it to anything I have ever had before, it is just Halva.

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We wandered the streets of the market listening to the vendors yelling out about their wares, Plia occasionally translating so we could understand. Each stand was full of so many amazing things from pastries, to spices, to tea, or trail mixes. There were numerous candy stands selling all sorts of chocolates or suckers.

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Plia took us a little off the beaten track and showed us her favorite place at the market; a tiny little coffee shop down one of the side alleyways which she said had some of the best hot chocolate around. It really was some amazing hot chocolate, all three of us got some and it was one of the richest things I have ever tasted. It had at least three little chocolate bars melting at the bottom fo the cup. It was nice having this brief little glimpse into her world.

As we were leaving the alleyway a tiny restaurant was handing out free samples and they basically chased us down trying to give us free food because they could tell we were americans. We finally agreed and the food was not only amazing but the people were hilarious. They asked us where we were from, both Tia and I said California and suddenly the owner just disappeared. We were a little confused and worried we had offended him when suddenly he comes running back and the speakers of the restaurant start blasting out Californication by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. It was hilarious and I really wished we could have stayed and eaten there but we were running out of time. So we walked away from the market with Californication filling the market streets behind us.

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It was a truly incredible experience and it felt like we really got a taste of life in Jerusalem. We all reluctantly came back together and late at night drove to our hotel which would be our home for the rest of the trip. The hotel was gigantic, called Rimonim (means pomegranate  but we were all too tired to really care. We got our new roommate assignments and went upstairs to sleep after one of the longest days of my life but also one of the best.

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Mandrake

Wednesday, April 10th, 2013

Day Ten.

I can smell the mandrake in your veins
Thick as molasses and light as a sea breeze;
It runs from your cracked edifice like a deluge
Of cold glances cast down lonely roads
Caught only by the spider’s web
Left to the whimsy of the wind;
But theses white walls
Will not be washed clean of me.
No bleach nor paint will draw me from the cracks
That keep this house whole
Because the fibers of the brick thatched roof
Has been slowly woven into me
This macabre patchwork of my being
Has been interlocked like the roots
Of a mandrake that stretches out
Like a child’s hands
Reaching out for the nightshade
Not knowing what this shadow will bring.
Mandrake melody sing not too loud
As the fire consumes you
Some sacrifices were necessary, my darling
And the dark was closing in before the day was done
What was I supposed to do?

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Posted in Poetry |

נחש‎

Tuesday, April 9th, 2013

Day Nine.

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The sidewalk is lit like fairy circles under a full moon,
But the spaces in between are darker than the deepest deluge.
It is in this space, between the moment of whispered words
Held in the bitterly cold night’s breeze saying Let there be light;
That I find myself staring at you.
Moving quickly by, briskly marching to the beat of an unknown cacophony
Like the heartbeat of a thunderbolt, your heel crushes the ground.
Step after step draws you closer to me.
I feel my earth quake and the air tremble as the space grows smaller
Until you are right before me like a hurricane making ground.
The tension in the air between us as the eyes of this storm
Share a sudden and incalculable gaze
Your eyes were the darkest shade of azul.
A storm brewing in them, that once released could never be stopped
I swear I could smell the scent of Petrichor on your breath.
That moment in the eye of the storm where we passed one another
In the darkest of spaces between the light of this earth
I knew you as the destroyer of all things the earth had made in me
I saw deep inside of you as you looked into me
I could see the smile in your eyes and the smirk on your lips
Somehow I always knew it would end like this.
With the silence of a storm and a solemn shared stare,
As the void of you, that claimed power over me, saw through my disguise
And knew only me; knew of the guilt in my heart,
and a forked tongue held behind clenched teeth.
The words lingered there as well,
Without ever sharing a word, our worlds where made whole
Bringing back full circle where my beginning made their end.
Our eyes spoke of failures neither of us could forget.
Your eyes cast across that darkness and shook me to my core
And in that darkness the final sonnet of sorrow sung from the dust of me:
I am so sorry.

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The Taciturn Rhapsody

Monday, April 8th, 2013

Day Seven.

The way the water rose to me was more than a ballet of perfect harmony
It was the ballad of a Thursday lost in Monday’s news,
The unprinted page of a love note addressed to you.
Never was a song more sombre than the taciturn sparrow afraid to sing-
but on that day that rang out a glorious rhapsody
the burden of the unsaid was ransomed from me.

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Posted in Poetry |

Out of Season

Saturday, April 6th, 2013

Day Five.

Found on the outskirts of you,
A new being began.
Born from the puddles of summer rain;
Constructed from the petals of May flowers;
Lost in a season not of its own kind
But of a colder climate that strips beauty
By the roots and plucks petals placed on eyelids
Like coins for Charon on a cold winter day.
This deification of displaced days
Is lost in the blur of a summer breeze
Caught in the heart of a winter waiting on change.
But without a place to lay their heads
The tulips bow under the weight of a season
Celebrated too soon.

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Graveside

Friday, April 5th, 2013

Day Four.

I dreamed today you died.
the hollowed out belly of the earth
was not a great enough grave for you.
Tulips with streaks of unknown hues
planted in every corner of the world
just so every time I saw them
I knew it was a part of you.

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Posted in Poetry |

Downpour

Wednesday, April 3rd, 2013

Day Three.

she never knew what her summersong sounded like
until the drifting harmonies
where swept away with the fallen leaves
like old headlines faded
on newspapers smeared by autumn rain
that unlike spring
brought a downpour with no pretense for blossoms

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Canary Whisper

Wednesday, April 3rd, 2013

Day Two.

cage confined and cradled tight
the canary couldn’t find the voice to sing
as the woman wrapped in wrinkles
kicked the cage again
sucking in on violent air
that ends a voice before it begins.
ashes tapped into the maw of a porcelain tray
brought to lips again
a kiss of death placed upon your own lips
with a falsified promise to be made new.
the canary lost its voice
in the labyrinth of the woman’s smoke
so even when the cave comes crashing down
the canary could only let out a smoky whisper
to lead their ghosts down the tunnel’s solitary way
where once was solid, returns to the unformed void.

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Mission of Mercy

Tuesday, March 19th, 2013

The robins came in the rain
To take the worms away.
Mother told me they were drowning
And the birds lent their wings
For a rescue mission
That taught the creatures
Of the earth, what the sky
Felt like beyond just a dream.
That the robins whisked them away
From mud puddles deeper
Than the well I watch Father dig
That seemed to stretch from earth
Back to sky all over again.
Mother told me worms couldn’t swim
Because their arms never grew right.
Kind of like how I never grew right.
Will the robins save me
When the waters come too high?
Of course they will honey,
And they will teach you to fly.

But Mother lied.
I watch the robin’s beak pierce
The earth like a kraken’s claw
Dividing land from sea
But the way was not clear
And the sojourners never made it through.
The worms surface from the earth
Hoping to find air that wasn’t drowning
In water, but the water was rising fast
Into a flood that would sweep them away.
The jaws of hungry animals
Pried into the earth and wrenched
Their bodies from the softened ground
Like daisies fresh for picking
Even though they were ready,
They where ripped from their roots
Body, soul, and all to be devoured
It was no rescue mission but a massacre masked
In the form of a red breasted beast

I sat watching through fogged windows
And wondered, if these monsters with wings
Veiled their murder in missions of mercy
What would my rescuer be?

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Egret Eyes

Sunday, March 3rd, 2013

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My mind is full of egret eyes.
Swiveling movement like the weight
At the end of a fishing line,
Pulling the hook serrated and sharp
Into the darkest parts of the sea
That only fish with grey translucent eyes
Can see with something more than sight
That illuminates the darkest parts of this world.

I feel disturbed like the jellied eye
Of a fish left too long in the sun;
Poked by innocent hands seeking fun.
My mind is pierced by shrieks of delight
As children run away, cringing in fright;
A game played by children in a twilight too dark
To be anything else but night.

Plucked from the sea by the dagger
Of a spear fishing egret
Perched atop a craggy rock out at sea,
The open mouthed, lipless screams
Of a fish out of water takes on new meaning.

My mind is full of egret eyes.
Preying with the majestic form of a killer,
Guised in beauty and lithe gossamer gowns
Of a white so pure it can only be called snowy.
But the bones buried beneath the snow
Remain unseen, hidden by layer and layer of white
So pure it can almost conceal the death in your eye
That pivots like a ballerina’s pirouette.

The bird opens wide its wings.
Wings of feathery white willing a skyward escape
Like a shot in the dark and a bullet left in a tree trunk
Because the wood won’t feel the burn, Right?
Just as a wriggling earthworm doesn’t feel the pierce
Of a hook dissecting its body into perfect segments
Like it was meant to be split by the greedy hands of men.
Did the fish see the pain as the worm was plunged
Into the depths of an element it didn’t understand?

These murky waters mean nothing to the eyes of a predator
As the egret dips its streamlined head into the water
Pulling forth its sacrifice of sea life.
The egret pushes itself from the rock in the middle of the sea
To return to its native country of sky clad creatures.
Bringing with it an unwilling victim of circumstance
Caught in the clutches of death, even the victim had to smile;
It was on this day, a fish learned to fly.

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