You are currently browsing the monthly archive for January 2011.

we separate again

for the greater good

we go our seperate

ways opening the


so all can see

the mizbeach cry

while the shaved

servants sing

songs of animal


the children watch

longingly  as

blood is given

hand to hand

before it is spilled

on all

the corners

we bumped into


keep it fresh

for mornings dew

revives the dead

and oil runs

through a beard

born in exile






I don’t think

I have a choice

I am free……




my mind washes over

and over the banks

holding the breakers in

turning inside my light


like the clouds riding the wind to the dead sea

if im not hefker

i don’t know how to live

in expectation

rain bring me home my hills are dry

the flowers are beauty

the colors remain

but but but

I distract the way

to run away

i don’t lift a finger

the paint is clean

its not good or bad

no father can tell

how far I am

my prayer is in my words

even if i don’t get up

the morning forgives me

its tragic but true

if i give up now

Ill never be through

all my holding on

is pulling me down

its ok don’t worry

my father sill lives