To the daughters who were born without a safe haven

To the mothers who baptized their daughters not in holy water
but in their heartache

To the daughter who raised her mother first
then herself

To the mother who thought being a mother would save her
to the daughter who taught her mother through her existence alone she could never make her whole

to the daughters who tried to make her whole anyway

to the mothers and daughters who resent each other and
don't know why

To the daughter who struggles to decide
between pleasing her mother
and pleasing herself

to the daughter who finally learns what it feels like
to choose herself
to the mother that does the same

to the mothers and daughters who run from unconditional love because they've never known the feeling

may you find peace
forgiveness
for yourself and for her
patience
resilience
acceptance

when the Queen sleeps.
the World goes quite.

The open way is coming
Try to tie
Your love with your family
Call your parents
Ask in truly

Phone your sons
Greeting your daughters
Make a beautiful kiss
Flaying over clouds
Chattering the fear
Improving our tie

That is a way
In addition to obey
Our Gods who can forgive
The faults and can give
Happiness clouds that will save
Our plants of life

Ninety-Three Daughters of Israel
a Holocaust poem by Chaya Feldman
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We washed our bodies
and cleansed ourselves;
we purified our souls
and became clean.

Death does not terrify us;
we are ready to confront him.

While alive we served God
and now we can best serve our people
by refusing to be taken prisoner.

We have made a covenant of the heart,
all ninety-three of us;
together we lived and learned,
and now together we choose to depart.

The hour is upon us
as I write these words;
there is barely enough time to transcribe this prayer ...

Brethren, wherever you may be,
honor the Torah we lived by
and the Psalms we loved.

Read them for us, as well as for yourselves,
and someday when the Beast
has devoured his last prey,
we hope someone will say Kaddish for us:
we ninety-three daughters of Israel.

Amen

In 1943 Meir Shenkolevsky, the secretary of the world Bais Yaakov movement and a member of the Central Committee of Agudas Israel in New York, received a letter from Chaya Feldman: "I don't know when you will get this letter and if you still will remember me. When this letter arrives, I will no longer be alive. In a few hours, everything will be past. We are here in four rooms, 93 girls ages 14 to 22, all of us Bais Yaakov teachers. On July 27, Gestapo agents came, took us out of our apartment and threw us into a dark room. We only have water to drink. The younger girls are very frightened, but I comfort them that in a short while, we will be together with our mother Sara [Sara Shnirer, the founder of the Bais Yaakov Seminary]. Yesterday they took us out, washed us and took all our clothes. They left us only shirts and said that today, German soldiers will come to visit us. We all swore to ourselves that we will die together. The Germans don't know that the bath they gave us was the immersion before our deaths: we all prepared poison. When the soldiers come, we will drink the poison. We are all saying Viduy throughout the day. We are not afraid of anything. We only have one request from you: Say Kaddish for 93 bnos Yisroel! Soon we will be with our mother Sara. Signed, Chaya Feldman from Cracow." Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, poem, Chaya Feldman, daughters, Israel, washed, cleansed, pure, purified, immaculate, 93, ninety-three, death, God, prayer, heart, covenant, Torah, Psalms, Kaddish

I would find the rainbow's end
To reclaim lost treasures
That went missing over my many years.

Some, mere sparkle a crow might crave;
Others, minor shadows in Plato's cave.
In some kind of after life,
Will I find my gold penknife?

I lost it on Easter Sunday:
Jake flashed it on John's jacket;
From nape to back bottom *****,
He sliced the new dress coat in half.
My penknife vanished,
Like the invisible mend.

I miss my pubescent chums,
When imagination was all the fun.
But really, we would look askance,
Not actually sure of a come-by-chance.

Youth got lost, slipped off my face;
I got distracted, it got replaced.

Friends and family have gone,
And with them took
Their share of treasures.

Should you, my dears,
Be lost, I will find you,
Everywhere.
In albums, jewelry boxes,
Closets and cushions.
I'll search the last place first.

A black splash
washes over my mind.
A dark flow that
bursts into bloom, like
Oleander or Night Shade.
The four leaf clover in
my pocket broke into a
thousand green tears.
Lovers know *******.
And when she keeps me from
my daughter, she's the
executioner, and smiles.
But the sublime thing about
life and love is: I will
never give up.
If I fall 100 times,
I will rise 101.
And I'll see you
soon, my little Iris.

I once had a nurse named Ivy, When I
was at Mercy Hospital D-Toxing.
She wasn't poison, and didn't wind and wrap
around my room giving it that garden green and
alive look.  There was never any doubt that I was
surrounded by four beige walls, and two locked doors
at the end of those long torturous halls that I walked daily.

She was a short squat thing with big eyes and large
plump thumbs.  The name Ivy didn't fit her.
My daughter's middle name is Ivy.  She is breathtaking--all
pumpkin pie colored hair.  She has the temperament of
autumn too, just like her mama.  It feels like a stomach
virus to be apart from her.  She twists and tightens around
my broken heart... We **** sure picked the right
name for her

The sun shines through the window, as the sound of little feet pitter patter in.
Little arms reach up to be embraced, you hold on tight before the mornings of bed-headed, sleepy smiled, cuddles disappear too soon.
You place her tiny body on the counter, and let her stir the pancake mix as you pour the coffee and embrace your lover in a good morning kiss.
Time seems to stop as you relish in this perfect life you’ve built. The sound of plastic and batter hitting hardwood, pulls you back to reality.
A tremulous UH-OH, breaks the silence, as laughter fills the air, and you take in, your perfectly imperfect life.

I pray you become strong
But the world never makes you hard.
I pray you know joy
But also sadness and pain.
I pray you always speak the truth
But that you can recognize when to bite your tongue.
I pray you know how to lose
But also that you win gracefully.
I pray you have a wild soul
But always stay grounded
Finally I pray you know you are loved
Even through the storms.