Psalm

 By Harvey Shapiro

I am still on a rooftop in Brooklyn on your holy day. The harbor is before me, Governor’s Island, Verrazano Bridge and the Narrows. I keep in my head what Rabbi Nachman said about the world being a narrow bridge and that the important thing is not to be afraid. So on this day I bless my mother and father, that they be not fearful where they wander. And I ask you to bless them and before you close your Book of Life, your Sefer Hachayim, remember that I always praised your world and your splendor, and that my tongue tried to say your name on Court Street in Brooklyn. Take me safely through the Narrows to the sea.

The Bears Take Tea

 

By Antique Lady

Bears in the garden
sipping sasafras tea

'Neath the shade and shadows
of the old plum tree

"How many sugars?" "One lump or two?"
"Not too sweet, one lump will do."

Rasberry scones, to go with their tea
Silently I watch, wishing they'd included me

Papa's tea is hot... Mama bears is cold
Something familiar...of how this story goes

Don't imitate me; 

it's as boring as the two
halves of a melon.
By Matsuo Basho
Translated By Robert Hass
Tweaked By Neil Fleischmann

 Symbols

Whoever puts on a tallis when he was young he will never forget;
Taking it out of the soft velvet bag, opening the folded shawl,
Spreading it out, kissing the length of the neckband (embroidered
or trimmed in gold.) Then swinging it in a great swoop overhead
like a sky, a wedding canopy, a parachute. And then winding it
around his head as in hide-and-seek, wrapping
his whole body in it, close and slow, snuggling into it like the cocoon
of a butterfly, then opening would-be wings to fly.
And why is the tallis striped and not checkered black-and-white
like a chessboard? Because squares are finite and hopeless.
Stripes come from infinity and to infinity they go
like airport runways where angels land and take off.
Whoever has put on a tallis will never forget.
When he comes out of a swimming pool or the sea,
he wraps himself in a large towel, spreads it out again
over his head, and again snuggles into it close and slow,
still shivering a little, and he laughs and blesses.

-- Yehuda Amichai

Mindful

By Mary Oliver

Every day

I see or hear

Something

That more or less

Kills me

With delight,

That leaves me

Like a needle

In the haystack

Of light.

It is what I was born for--

To look, to listen,

To lose myself

Inside this soft world--

To instruct myself

Over and over

In joy,

And acclamation.

Nor am I talking

About the exceptional,

The fearful, the dreadful,

The very extravagant--

But of the ordinary,

The common, the very drab,

The daily presentations.

Oh, good scholar,

I say to myself,

How can you help

But grow wise

With such teachings

As these--

The untrimmable light

Of the world,

The ocean's shine,

The prayers that are made

Out of grass?

In My Room

By Brian Wilson

There's a world where I can go and tell my secrets to
In this world I lock out all my worries and my fears:

Do my dreaming and my scheming
Lie awake and pray
Do my crying and my sighing
Laugh at yesterday

Now it's dark and I'm alone but I won't be afraid

In my room.

Dirge Without Music

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.

So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.  Crowned

With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.

Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.

A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,

A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,—

They are gone.  They are gone to feed the roses.  Elegant and curled

Is the blossom.  Fragrant is the blossom.  I know.  But I do not approve.

More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave

Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;

Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.

I know.  But I do not approve.  And I am not resigned.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52773/dirge-without-music