Together we keep walking.
The way the wax makes love to the wane: this is the faithfulness you are held with.
Love, hatred, truth, elephants, homesickness, jealousy, God, and much more.
A poem on a Penn Station wall inspired my own poem about what I want, need, and hope for at this difficult moment.
No rehearsal, no practice time. But someone, something, is rooting for us.
I open the hallway closet and choose my weapon. I go for the broom and dustpan. I drag the broom...
No one can claim a monopoly on the truth.
I thought I knew who I was, but how much of me was really me?
A Yom Kippur reflection on the yearning for Gd in the midst of running away from His people.
She, who is fearless, who walks out of the wilderness feral-shouldered and unbroken.
