Discernible Sound

At a loss,

  She will bring you up to Eden,

  She’s the cross!

  Let the jealous idols seethe,

  Full of wrath –

  You will trade in your belief

  For her laugh!

  In the desserts, where the sands

  Mock the sun,

  Place your world into her hands -

  She’s the one!

  Dream

  The night collapsed, like a drunk in the street,

  Only the wind wailed, like a dog on a chain.

  I could not feel the pavement under my feet,

  I looked at the passersby with utter disdain.

  There was something in this sinister gloom

  That made you feel dazed and lost in the crowd,

  I opened my jacket, I needed more room, -

  I needed to breathe, but my lungs just gave out.

  I smelled her perfume, before she appeared.

  I tried to decode her mischievous smile.

  Her lips, in slow motion, whispered: Come here.

  I lowered my eyes like a disciplined child.

  The streetlamps were on, but shone rather dimly.

  The weather was cold and I started to fidget.

  The mist seemed to curl, like smoke from a chimney.

  I dared not to move. I stood, frozen rigid.

  The grief in her eyes was a mystical riddle,

  And try as I might, I just couldn’t ignore it.

  A black and white photo, - the moment was brittle,

  With nothing to follow, and nothing before it.

  I love you even more for your curves…

  I love you even more for your curves,

  For that, inside you, you’re nursing

  Something not quite of this earth,

  But rather of galaxies bursting…

  You can feel the planets colliding

  In your neck, in your back, in your calves…

  That’s my love swelling up and dividing

  Into two even greater halves…

  Analyze the circumstance…

  Analyze the circumstance:

  There are far too many

  People offering two cents –

  None are worth a penny!

  Cast their coins in the well

  Let them hit the water…

  Only mom and dad can tell

  How to raise a daughter.

  Take it with a grain of salt,

  Tears are just too precious –

  They'll be diamonds in a vault

  Once you bear the pressure.

  In all the beauty that was revealed to me…

  In all the beauty that was revealed to me,

  What I treasured the most

  Was the silence just after the symphony,

  Just before the applause.

   

  As the stage became two-dimensional,

  And the notes ran back to the clef,

  I breathed in the divine, the essential,

  All the while, holding my breath...

  I awaited a letter…

  I awaited a letter. You didn’t write.

  I had a vision that a train had taken you.

  It sighed once as it vanished from sight.

  You were asleep and it didn’t waken you.

  The elastic platform stretched far behind,

  Then, like a leopard, it leapt for the train.

  If you could look back, I’m certain, you’d find

  Nothing remained, but a grimace of pain.

  Dali was wrong…

  Dali was wrong – it’s not the clocks, but people

  That melt away and shrink under the sun.

  Our best attempts to battle time prove feeble,

  Although we cling, the stubborn hands move on…

  At times, we’re forced to hide behind the turn,

  Where running bulls won’t sweep our bodies under,

  And watch, through tears, unable to discern

  The beast from man, as limbs are torn asunder.

  But, there’s no pain. It’s true! Just look around!

  Do not avert your eyes from grime and gore.

  We’re only icicles that stretch toward the ground,

  The mesh of flesh is ice and nothing more…

  Creation

  I

  You didn’t believe the first contraction. You needed more proof. Yes, it seemed stronger than any previous. You felt this one somewhere in your lower back, and it grew until the branches of nerves sent signals up through your spine that this Really. Might. Be. It.

  Still, you didn’t believe the first contraction. You needed more proof.

  For most women, it’s a welcomed sight. Regular contractions are a prelude to nature taking its course, freeing the woman from nine months of hard labor. In your case, it was Nurture over Nature. You weren’t yet willing to let go. Instead, every fiber of muscle tightened in your body in an attempt to keep her inside, if only for another minute and a half, if only for another ten and a half hours.

  Constriction. Contraction.

  Ahead, full of steam.

  You’re ready to fracture.

  Apart at the seams.

  You’re bent over backwards.

  A gymnast in training.

  You grimace. Your back hurts.

  A minute remaining.

  Don’t think of the long haul.

  Just seconds. Illusions.

  A walk down a long hall.

  Conviction. Conclusion.

  It left you as quickly as it came. Perhaps, this is why you didn’t believe it. Reinforcement appeared exactly five minutes later. Suddenly it seemed real.

  II

  The longest 33 minutes of my life, to that point. The highway was stretched like an elastic and I was scared to blink in case the person holding the other end should let go. Streetlamps flashed by the passenger-side window. Even though it was daytime, somehow, I remember them being yellow. A long-exposure photograph would have turned them into a river of gold. Frozen in time, an observer wouldn’t be able to tell if we were going with or against the current. Our minds were on something else entirely.

  The number on the screen jumped. They were monitoring her heart rate. I wondered if there was some mathematical formula that could predict the sequence, race the hands of the clock and breaking just a step ahead, inform us of the future, so we could be certain that she was fine.

  Somebody tell me what is what,

  In limbo of the holding cell,

  The monitor, in Morse Code,

  Send out the message “All is well.”

  It’s certain. We are in transition.

  The gripping pains will not abate.

  The baby’s dropped and in position, -

  A race horse shaking at the gate.

  III

  You shook by the door. “I will tell security not to let them in.”  The door shook and all the insecurities came flooding in, smiling. You were staring in the mirror that reflected the image from the future you dreaded, of the person you were scared to become. Your future reflection was the first to break the staring contest. Right then you knew you had gotten the upper hand. Your younger self looked on, still worried, but proud of your resolve, wondering if she would be able to do the same, when it was her time.

  Her time had not come yet, - so we were told.

  Half in a daze, we stepped back in the world,

   

  Where nothing was ended and nothing begun,

  Where we were still two, but fewer by one,

   

  We pondered the numbers of this arithmetic,

  Numbed to the bone by the sun’s anesthetic.

   

  You clutched at my arm, as if to keep steady.

  We wanted her now, but she wasn’t ready.

  IV

  I used to wonder if we were ready. To that day, our biggest responsibility was taking care of a dog, and I still wasn’t sure where exactly I stood in the hierarchy of the pac
k. To raise a child would be something all together different. That day, the child raised me. Faced with the inevitability, all doubts were suddenly pushed to the wayside.

  The few hours we spent at home were a blur, divided between the yoga ball, the couch and the walks up and down the driveway.

  Concession. Confusion.

  A tear and a shiver.

  The sunset of fuchsia

  Still burned through the silver.

  The street was deserted,

  The pavement was black.

  Just then you asserted,

  “It’s time to go back.”

  Your eyes seemed to issue

  A total submission.

  It suddenly squeezed you.

  Contraction. Constriction.

  V

  A green icon of the heart blinks on a monitor. The roller-coaster of her heart rate is repeatedly dipping, before slowly ascending into the 130s. Nurses come and go, like waiters working hard to earn their tips, except less courteous. Their tired smiles appear to hang in mid-air, occupying the space even after they exit the room. Few words are spoken. Shockingly few, especially compared to how many go unvoiced. The silence is sometimes such that it makes you feel smothered. Just as I’m thinking this, her heart rate plummets.

  Contractions get closer,

  no time for rest.

  The roller-coaster

  hugs the rail

  at the peak of the crest,

  breaks fail,

  all hell breaks loose.

  Arms start to flail

  and there’s no time to lose.

  In distress,

  nurses assail.

  Inhale

  deep into your chest.

  Hold it as long as you’re able.

  Stable. Stable. Stable.

  She’s frail

  and stable, at best.

  VI

  You’re 7 cm. It’s show-time. They wheel you away.

   

  They break your water. It’s funny to think of water breaking. I have an image of a vase, cracking. Veins running up its lateral surface, until it shatters. Fragments of water are left on the floor, with sharp, jagged edges. It did, in fact, shatter. All of the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. When the nurse says “Shit,” you tune in and listen.

  “She’s breeched,” she screeched.

  As if everything we’ve been through already wasn’t enough. You’ve spent all your strength on fighting off the epidural, hoping for natural birth, you’ve saved nothing for the spinal.

  Longest 33 min of my life.

  Not just you, - we were both giving birth!

  I could feel every twinge, every seizure

  And the pain at the end of each nerve,

  Barely touched by the slow anesthesia.

   

  We were both laid out on the gurney,

  Like two clouds, in garments of white –

  And those eyes, in the light, looking sternly,

  And our own looking up through the light.

   

  Remember? - You don’t, in the slightest, -

  The incision, the blade, and the cold,

  When they searched for the child inside us,

  As though miners looking for gold.

   

  How we started to pray for atonement,

  When it seemed there was nothing else left,

  How we both held our breath for a moment,

  Till the moment she let out a breath.

   

  How our hands clenched into each other,

  Then let go, as we spun in a whirl!

  How I went from a son to a father, -

  You – from being to having - a girl.

   

  VII

   

  The first time they put her in my hands, it felt like she was pulling me up. If you had twins, I’m certain I would have been lifted out of the chair, with my feet dangling above the floor. As it was, I soared. I saw you whirling next to me.

  I won’t forget those eyes, filled to the brim and spilling over. I am branded with them. I wake up to them every morning. Before I even open my own.

  Convulsion. Compassion.

  Congestion. Commotion.

  The tears on your lashes

  blown out of proportions.

  Absorbing and swelling

  amidst all the noise,

  they’re quietly telling

  the words left unvoiced.

  Their pull will deplete me.

  All pain and elation

  are captured completely.

  Conception. Creation.

  You – on my chest…

  You - on my chest, as if

  We couldn’t get any nearer.

  Interest and disbelief,

  As if it’s myself in the mirror,

  As if, detached from myself

  And moving without permission,

  I’m arching my back to delve

  Into all that comes into vision,

  As if, between us, the bend

  Of space-time became distorted,

  Our features began to blend

  And decades became disordered,

  Ecstasy mixed with grief –

  How did I live without

  You? You - on my chest, as if

  I’m on your chest, sprawled out.

  Occupy Wall Street

  Are you a rebel with a cause

  Or a martyr on the cross,

  On the cross-roads crucified

  With your Lucy in the sky

  Or perhaps just Mary Jane,

  Good enough to ease the pain?

  Is your sweetheart by your side,

  Stripped of everything, but pride?

  Did she choose to step away

  Or to taste the pepper spray?

  Did she hear the sirens clear,

  When the cops, in riot gear,

  Rushed against your signs of peace

  As though animals released

  From the very prison cell

  That will soon be your hotel?

 

  Do you feel betrayed by college?

  Your investments into knowledge?

  Your pursuit of the degree

  Which, (of course, we can agree)

  Took away the precious time

  From the unemployment line?

  Do you feel betrayed by parents?

  Did they make it seem apparent

  That the force of will pays off

  If you do not take days off?

  Were they lying through their teeth,

  Or living life in make-believe?

  Do you feel betrayed by teachers?

  By your shrink and by your preacher?

  By your governor, your mayor?

  By your mystical soothsayer?

  All of them have made careers

  Of feeding bullshit to your ears.

  Do you feel betrayed by friends,

  Who are sitting on the fence,

  In a home, with central heat,

  While you’re freezing on the street?

  Are the ninety-nine percent,

  Sleeping soundly, content?

 

  Though you may be in the dark,

  Nonetheless, you chose the park,

  Where the color green is pure,

  And contains much more allure.

  You have proudly made your pick

  Not to be another brick

  In the Wall Street dissolution.

  We commend your resolution.

  To the Muse

  I can’t decipher the torrent

  Of verses when they start surging

  I find your dialect foreign

  As if I appeared in church and

  The priest speaks at the podium

  In sign language, fingers flailing –

  Someone turned off the audio

  And all communication is failing.

  The priest is reciting your psalms,

  Offering me to brea
k bread.

  I can’t even read your palms, -

  Your palms are still bloody red.

  Say something! A couple of words!

  This silence is too grotesque.

  I feel like I’m breaking codes,

  And breaking apart at my desk.

  Though often alone and happy…

  Though often alone and happy,

  At times, I’m lonely and stressed –

  Come sit beside me and wrap me

  Into your tenderness.

  When my dejection is dormant,

  Don’t wait for me to regress.

  Protect me before I’m cornered, -

  Life is a game of chess.

  We all have our sets of issues

  And mine are a tangled mess,

  At times, I can be capricious -

  But pity me nonetheless!

  And when the sunset bleeds fuchsia

  And beauty is hard to digest,

  Pity me for the future –

  For losing what I possessed,

  For menacing clouds above me,

  My poems, and lack of rest,

  Pity because you love me

  For all that I can’t express…

  On my skin…

  On my skin, you discover the comfort

  That you last felt when you were inside.

  A balloon that is pulling me upward,

  You are rocking my arms side to side.

  As your body lets go of the spirit,

  It becomes much more buoyant in air,

  Flowing smoothly, with nothing to steer it,

  With the breeze and without a care.

  Eyes were drooping, mid-dream.

  Arms were dropping, mid-stream,

  Where the leaves of the maples frame

  Your slumbering weightless frame.

  Before you…

  Before you, I had one body

  And inside, one heartbeat thrived,

  Then this body met somebody -

  Winter left, and you arrived.

  Time, in turn, became unstable,

  All the clocks beat out of sync.

  Now, looking at a Newton’s cradle,

  I perceive a playground swing.

  Before the world…

  Before the world, there was a word –

  A foreword. Moving forward,

  Out of the word, He made a world.

  He spoke, and then He lowered

  His voice, too tired to uphold

  The complex world He fashioned

  Out of a simple spoken word -

  Such love, such agony, such passion!

  I love you most…

  I love you most when I can’t fall asleep

  And you are sleeping. I’m compelled to wake you.

  You seem so fragile, that I’m scared to break you,

  Until I’m certain that you’ve fallen deep.

  I dare to kiss you then, convincingly enough

  So as to wake a soundly sleeping infant,

  Yet, soothingly enough, so in that instant,

  Your dreams would go uninterrupted, love.

  Emptiness in the crib…