All my life
I have been trying to get rid of
My collection of stones
I’ve tried to sell them
I’ve tried to lend them
I’ve tried to barter
But you take them
One by one
You hold them gently
In the palm of your hand
You caress their crevices
And polish them with your tears
And then together
We open the drawer
And put them away
We put away the heaviness
That I have been trying to
Sell, lend, and barter
For all these years
We put them away
One by one
The hard pieces of myself
Falling softly into the padding drawer
Pieces that only you have ever held
Pieces that only you have ever caressed
Pieces that only you have ever polished
Pieces of me
That you realized
Were not really me
But were just my
Collection of stones
Second Chances
Second chances
Are when you reach
The top of
A mountain
After a climb
It’s when you
Look back at the
Gravel paths
You tread
And slipped on
It’s when you look
back at the
Boulders you’ve
Hoisted yourself over
At the trees
You’ve clung to
At the branches
That left red slashes
Across your cheek
Second chances
Are when you look down at
Your worn out sneakers
And smile
At their thin soles
It’s when you’re sitting at the top
And looking down
At the purple mountains
And valleys
Of opportunity
unfolding beneath you
Second chances are when
You look down
at the life
You will have
Because you made
The climb.
Ilan Ilan BMah Averichechu
The roots of the old oak
Run thick
And deep
Intertwining
Under the soft
Wet earth
Buds
blooming
With possibility
Bearing fruit
Firm and sweet
On branches
stretching out
Into the horizon
Of endless opportunity
