Their faces twitched. Their eyes fluttered. So did mine. Everyone's do. I didn't look at the clock, I simply existed in the moment in a room full of young girls, six years my junior. So much to see and do, so much to understand. I truly felt a moment of utter oneness, even if just for a few moments.
On learning to appreciate the small moments of growth.
I can’t speak, for I fear I’ll say the wrong thing. I know nothing. I’ll never learn anything new. These are the abilities I have and that will never change. I’ll just stay here quietly – shoes untied, paralyzed by a problem I’ve created myself. A home-made problem, all of my own. No one ever told me, “you can’t.” Other than myself, that is.
I come here in the early mornings / intruding in a still barbed wired reality / your body crawled out, but your mind never did, / not really.
We are very much aware that G-d created the world with speech, something man is utterly incapable of; isn’t he?
An introspective take on loneliness, from a religious Jew who has been through it in a powerful and painful way.
A father's raw, unfiltered, and heartbreaking experience with miscarriage.
When he left, I was battling a chronic illness, unable to visit him. And now, I revisit that moment, changed.
A Jew of color who grew up during the Civil Rights movement describes why she has chosen to march in Selma in the Trump era.
