by Marc Chagall
Long, long ago the marble slab on the grave of my little sister, Rachel, disappeared. She wasted away as the result of eating charcoal. At last, pale and thin, she breathed her last sigh. Her eyes filled with the blue of heaven, with dark silver. Her pupils became fixed. Flies hovered around her nostrils. No one drove them away.
I got up from the chair, drove them away, and sat down again. I got up again and I sat down again.
My eyes were scarcely wet when I saw the candles lighted at the head of her bed. An old man stood by her side guarding her all night long.
And to think that, in few hours, that little body will be lowered into the earth and men's feet will trample on it!
No one gives a thought to dinner. My sisters have hidden behind the curtains at the door, they weep, press their ten fingers to their mouths and dry their tears with their hear and their blouses.
Showing posts with label Learn at work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Learn at work. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
the painting
findings and forgotten heartbreaks amid sun drenched pages of art at the national library. blessed
If only my sun had shone at night.
I sleep - steeped in colours,
In a bed of paintings,
Your foot in my mouth
Presses me, tortures me.
I wake up in pain
Of a new day, with hope
Not yet painted,
Not yet daubed with paint.
I run up
To my dry brushes,
And I'm crucified like Jesus,
With nails pounded in the easel.
Am I finished?
Is my picture done?
Everything shiens, flows, runs.
Stop, one more daub,
Over there - black paint,
Here - red, blue, spread out,
Calmed me.
Can you hear me - my dead bed,
My dry grass,
My departed love,
My new come love,
Listen to me.
I move over your soul,
Over your belly -
I drink the calm of your years.
I swallowed your moon
The dream of your innocence,
To become your angel,
To watch you as before.
Marc Chagall
If only my sun had shone at night.
I sleep - steeped in colours,
In a bed of paintings,
Your foot in my mouth
Presses me, tortures me.
I wake up in pain
Of a new day, with hope
Not yet painted,
Not yet daubed with paint.
I run up
To my dry brushes,
And I'm crucified like Jesus,
With nails pounded in the easel.
Am I finished?
Is my picture done?
Everything shiens, flows, runs.
Stop, one more daub,
Over there - black paint,
Here - red, blue, spread out,
Calmed me.
Can you hear me - my dead bed,
My dry grass,
My departed love,
My new come love,
Listen to me.
I move over your soul,
Over your belly -
I drink the calm of your years.
I swallowed your moon
The dream of your innocence,
To become your angel,
To watch you as before.
Marc Chagall
Friday, July 11, 2008
pivotal.
Now, I pray every night that my children should grow up to a
Torah life,
Jewish marriage,
and good deeds. CBJordan
~blessings
Torah life,
Jewish marriage,
and good deeds. CBJordan
~blessings
Thursday, April 12, 2007
say wha?
When is G-d?
G-d is found at two poles of Time. He is found outside Time and beyond. And He is found here within the moment now.
From that point beyond, G-d looks within and says, "From this, I will have delight." And from that choice, all things, past and future, are made.
Here's what I want to know:
.
G-d is found at two poles of Time. He is found outside Time and beyond. And He is found here within the moment now.
From that point beyond, G-d looks within and says, "From this, I will have delight." And from that choice, all things, past and future, are made.
Here's what I want to know:
.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Leaving 36th Street station...
just as the train leaves the dark tunnel and heads out to light outside, look at the wiring to your left. Just look till ur mouth goes O.
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