Let Creation Set You Free: Cigarettes in the Night

In the late hours of
the evening
with screaming, crying,
and labored breathing
Hands of
lightning zinging,
the Mind
busily working,
yet drifting
still disassociating
along the trestles of my bed.

The sway and bounce,
bustling, and teeming
the radiance
of Life,
silently quelling.
Apis, a Monarch
reduced to worker
reduced to slave
eviserated to
gangly being,
a ghost
invisible
along the trestles of my bed.

Once upon a time
where feet once
dangled,
gilded and laud;
where shadows met contours
embracing their
stage;
a juncture of
movement and space.
A silken body draped
in satin
and candle lit spill,
enchanted
by the rhythm
of breath
along the trestles of my bed.

Within satin sheets
and dimly lit
walls bound
by universal
secrets,
unwritten or whispered.
Holding the mysteries,
betwixt and aligned
of rapturous
revival
and static, idle nights
shrouded
along the trestles of my bed.

Thrashed and wasted
spirit and heart
waiting, wanting
for a portent
to warm, to heal
to know all is not for naught.
In the broken
starlight,
with detached eyes
through disheveled hair,
the waft of cloves
and burning
cigarettes
clouded
along the trestles of my bed.

Waiting,
Ever
Waiting
along the trestle of my bed.

In the twilight hour
of the Sun's gentle
rising, the wind's light caress
finds defeated brow
in hand.
And, the susurrus of
sweet, balmy dew
echoed
a fire kindling,
for love and hope
that is
only found
along the trestles of my bed.


© 2014 DNKG Cigarettes in the Night

The Challenge of Forgiveness: Inspired by Craig Taubaum & Co.

An open call on the High Holy Days,

On an eerily quiet morning, as neighborhood dogs slept and birds kept safely to their nests, a song began in my dreams and carried into my consciousness: “Forgiveness, forgiveness, even if, even if, you don’t love me anymore.” Don Henley’s 1989 hit coursed through me. Family lore spoke of the power of dreams and lessons attaching themselves to us upon waking, and openness was key to deciphering the code.

Fumbling through the mix of psychology textbooks, clinical progress notes, to-do lists, and gooey substances upon my nightstand I found my iPhone. I was greeted by seven missed messages from a male colleague, whose company I enjoyed fabulously on a number of occasions. His tone was frantic, content angered, and feelings dejected. I couldn’t hide behind the dark curtains of my broken reality anymore. It was time to peel back the layers and reconcile.   

Inhaling, I called and was greeted by silence. When he talked I listened, admitting that the mirror he held to my soul revealed a connoisseur for “The Game.” Begging for vindication, he cut my soul, “Wow. It took you this long?” Click. Pause. Silence. I scarcely see the morning of that bitter sorrow, but from time to time, I hear his virulent malice not granting my release. It’s that moment of wanting release that chains me, shackling me to memories of his charm, wit, celestial balance and life philosophy.

The greatest gift given by growth is awareness. I became astutely aware that I was responsible for forgiving myself. That no words from a man, woman, or even from HaShem would heal me. Forgiveness begins with pure intent, transformation comes through facing fears, and healing starts when we give ourselves permission to do so. Action is required.

            My dear ones, I challenge you to sing, perform, create, write down your trial(s) with forgiveness this year- with yourself, others, or G-d. What holds power over you? What would you need to release it?

Let Creation Set You Free: Spontaneous Release

Plunge

Throw me in the fire
Let the embers glow
Pitch that match
I won't scream
See the Maven
Endure...
subsuming the
warmth from which 
I dawn

©2014 DNKG

Let Creation Set You Free: Nostalgia is Good for the Soul

Sometimes, nostalgia brings back feelings from the torpor of the underworld and other times it amplifies the seedlings nestling quietly in the window box. Clearing my craft area brought me this gem from over a decade ago when I was selected to represent my school in a statewide poetry competition. I was by no means my first published poem, nor my last. What's interesting to see are the techniques I was exploring. Rhyme was obviously one. It's also nice to see how one has grown, but also, how one has remained the same. 

Nostalgia: a gift from G-d. 

Illusion in Hawaii's Sky

Stretching across the dismal skies

Vivid colors in the darkest of eyes

A double ray, a unique delight

is within my broken and blurred sight

Kissing the waves of the open sea

Gently caressing the swaying tree

Warming the heart of the ocean blue

In majestic lands of beautiful hues

Romance is ignited by its amazing sight

Passion unfurled by its summer night

Its beauty was a born in Aurora's grace

Dispering from the heavens at a bewildering pace

Danielle O'Brien

Notre Dame High School

Riverside

© 2002 Creative Communications Press

© 2014 DNKG Nostalgia

Sisterhood Day - A Jewish Retreat

           Historical recordkeeping is astonishing. For example, we could ask the Internet about July 13 and discover global events that transpired. On July 13^th, the original “Hollywoodland” sign was dedicated in 1923, Babe Ruth hit home run #700 in 1934, and Rashi, the prominent Jewish scholar, died in 1105. What history books won’t reflect is the gathering of more than 100 women from 23 different synagogues at the Women of Reform Judaism’s Pacific Area Day on July 13^th, 2014.

            The Sisterhood Day was transcendent. With my “sister”, Deborah Kummerman, we embraced this day of spiritual growth and networking as a holy endeavor given by G-d. We spent time noshing and exploring the newly renovated grounds of Temple Judea. We were familiar with this synagogue, but its trickling water and mosaic glass seemed to glisten differently today. The Genesis of creation, inlaid within twisting stairs lofting towards the heavens, moved us profoundly. The climb reminded us to be grateful, helped us cultivate strength, and prepared our souls to receive Torah.

            Upon entering the sanctuary, we took a moment to pause. We noticed the women: dynamic, regal, and strong. We saw Rabbi Cantor Alison Wissot, a charismatic, passionate woman who brought us through Parsha Mattot. She discussed vows and oaths for women. Here, Rabbi Wissot’s shared her experience with Torah: “We women are powerful yet our voices are not recorded in Torah. But, we are not powerless! We must accept our power and use it as a spiritual connector. Recognize your power. It isn’t good or bad. It’s indiscriminate. We have a ‘choice’ to use power either way”.

            As the day closed, Deborah and I discussed programs that impacted us. We both agreed the entire program was phenomenal, with everyone bringing something unique. But, it was Rabbi Wissot that stood out. We began analyzing how a female Rabbi could impact the shul, female congregants, membership, and relationships with existing Sisterhoods. We examined our vows and choices, questioning if we’re on the leadership path we aspire for.

Are you on your path?

Let Creation Set You Free: Elul's Call for Silence

Between paper lines
and coded words
of meetings and study
This invitation or That song
In children screaming, "NO!"
or in the loved ones who ache
and the other ones breaking.
The silence calls, to
escape, the walls caving
sit, melt, become Earth.
Revive.

2014 © DNKG Call for Silence

Let Creation Set You Free: Secrets of the Cedar Cellar

In her silent cedar cellar
upon a warm, smokey floor
back settling upon
the burgundy spirits 
holding
her aches, joys,
dreams and curses.

She, in empty hands, asks
"Am I not enough?
Am I not woman enough?
To what do I owe this
malcontent, this disrespect,
This. This. Just.....this...

Be it true, that
the grime, the dirt
the stains on the floor
or the crinkled bed linens
dictate my
unworthiness
of being
Wife of the Year?

Be it true,
the piles of clothes,
sink of dishes,
the shedding dog,
the muddied children
and tearful baby
dictate how I am
unworthy of
Mother of the Year?

Be it true
in the mirror, oh, that mirror
which haunts and laughs
at the lines, wrinkles,
the cellulite - uninviting;

Be it true, that this body
which bore children
that receives your reprehension,
is just a memory of THE body
existing in the broken fragments
of the psyche refusing
to take form, proclaiming:
YOU are not worthy of being
a Sexy Woman."

Soft tears roll across her pink skin
carrying the pain of decades,
beading upon the amber cedar.
Arms hiding her vision
breathing in and sighs,
"Am I not enough?
Am I not enough you?"

She trails
"I am enough for me.
But, fail so miserably for you...why?"
Faintly, she chokes,
"I am enough." 

A sudden warmth enters
like first sun on dew
He, hearing her heart's sorrow,
conveys lovers words
through muted lips
and begs forgiveness, renewal
before first bird's twitter
along the willow's branch tomorrow.


© 2014 DNKG Secrets of the Cedar Cellar