The daily parade of naked skeletons are marching by me again,
They take off their wedding rings before their cleansing can begin.


All I had to do was close the door behind them,
and afterwards, I would look in to find a pyramid erected in my honour.

I could hear screams as the gas would fill the chamber,
and people bit and clawed at one another in panic.
As the weak gave in and lay down,
The others would climb on top of them in an instinctual attempt to get at the last of the clean air so that they may live just a little bit longer.
The strongest ones would be at the top of the pyramid.

What have I done?


The greatest of horrors brought upon the people of this land,
All happened under my command.

On a little hill amid fertile fields lies a small cemetery,
a Jewish cemetery behind a rusty gate, hidden by shrubs,
abandoned and forgotten. Neither the sound of prayer
nor the voice of lamentation is heard there
for the dead praise not the Lord.
Only the voices of our children ring out, seeking graves
   and cheering
each time they find one--like mushrooms in the forest, like
   wild strawberries.
Here's another grave! There's the name of my mother's
mothers, and a name from the last century. And here's a name,
and there! And as I was about to brush the moss from the name--
Look! an open hand engraved on the tombstone, the grave
   of a kohen,
his fingers splayed in a spasm of holiness and blessing,
and here's a grave concealed by a thicket of berries
that has to be brushed aside like a shock of hair
from the face of a beautiful beloved woman.

the world is too bright.
i am blinded by false smiles and laughs strained to reach that falsetto note.
that preconceived notion that paradise of the land brings paradise of the mind.
sand is still sand, and water is still water,
less we quantify their quality by purity and color.
sand is still sand and water is still water,
and i am still me.

the world is too bright,
so i filter it into sepia tones gentler to the mind's eye and swim to where the water meets the clouds.
i am drowning,
but not from the ocean's relentless caresses,
but from the world's relentless stresses:
beauty that is measured and calculated,
saturated with standards that burn like the sun and are as intangible as its rays,
a paradise built on sand as quick as it is to judge.    

so i swim to where the water meets the clouds.
where the water is still water,
and i am still me.