“…And for a moment I better understand the one who draws, and the one who takes pictures, or writes. That he needs to carve out a sliver of infinity from the constant flow and transformations and fix it in a frame for keepsake. To incise a picture from it, to engrave a chord, or an ache, so it will become a tiny piece of eternity in of in itself that he will be able to wrap around himself in the years of want and scarcity.” Ester Kal (my translation from Hebrew)

No  way back

Drawing a big empty square is the start,

 And inside, windows that with their curtains,

 Tied back by pink bows, look like half closed eyes.

One smaller rectangle in the middle,

 For the door, partly open, to let the air in.

Then a steep triangle set above,

 Colored, mostly inside the lines, crimson red.

The chimney, in the corner, still spits out

A swirling thin thread of gray puff.

Now the curving path that leads to the gate

With a slightly leaning back white picket fence.

I push the gate, how can I refuse to accept

Its open invitation, the white cat wraps

Around my legs, a silky scarf,

I give the swing a gentle push,

And get lost in the well-known squeak.

Some dead leaves crunch,

I am so close, so close to the open door,

I put my hand on the latch, and the door shuts tight,

How easy it was to be fooled,

To believe that there was ever a way back.

Variations on the home theme

Homecoming

Low stone fence and behind it

A small patch of yellowing grass,

Some tired plants in ceramic pots

Tree we planted when the girls were young,

Is now looming over the yard.

Crushed granite walkway still

Leads to a wide entrance of

Red brick, and a door that

 No longer wears our names.

I put my ear to the door and listen,

Echoes of laughter dispersing, spraying,

 Ringing, bright and jingly.

Small feet tapping up and down the stairs,

A delightful jumble of kids and toys,

Barking dogs and sleepy cats,

Perfect harmony of banging doors and

 Slamming windows, is it still there?

I knock and hold my breath.

The hand marks of strangers

Everywhere I look,

Do I know this place that seems

The same, yet so altered

My eyes swim around,

Looking for a familiar spot,

An anchor, to secure myself to,

In these alien walls that

Once I called home.