Monday, April 20, 2009


Poetry often serves to amuse one's inner muse...that appreciates an occasional catharis, or a bit of humor.

Someone has to be around to remember who we were, even if we imagined how they were, this is better than nothing at all. No smiles, hugs, laughter, stories, seders, feasts, happy music, songs, celebrations, no memories, closeness, family reminiscences...Judenrein meant fertig, it meant the end of family tradition, continuity, infrastructure. Yet B"H new generations can start whole, fresh , and anew. Hopefully we meet our ancestors in future generations.

Introduction: I wanted to honor the memory of my Mother's family who came from Niedzieliska, Poland, a small town between Tarnow and Brezkow, not too far from Crakow. Grandpa, Zaide Moshe played the violin, spoke several languages, and owned an orchard and general store. Grandma, Bubbie Bertha was a Feilgut, she left the world too early and then my Mom Ruth and Aunt Regina came to America, leaving behind Uncle Max who had a carpet store in Cracow, and Aunt Rosa who married a Korngold from Cracow. The rest is consigned to the realm of mystery and speculation. Mom is past her late eighties, and is in a rehab hospital in Texas. She chose not to remember or speak about the painful past. Of course I would like for Aryeh Simcha and Raquel Ahava to remember where their Zaide's maternal grandparents, great aunt's and uncle came from, their names and perhaps one day will know more about who they were and how they lived. - Shel Stein
4-20-2009 ; 26th Nissan, 5769

I am at the Helm
of the Niedzieliskan Catalytic Realm.
If only by default
Oy gevault

Oh, How I wish upon a shining star
I never had to carry this emotionally numbing scar
Please forget Oy Veh Es Mir, for I am still here
Yet let us always remember the Tarnow massacre

Ponder this emptiness for a moment and try to understand why
How 40 thousand souls could disappear in the blink of an eye
Genealogy searches become aimless
As generations, many misproche entered the realm of ghosts, and became mostly nameless

Their existence ripped away
Who is left now to remember and pray?
The biosphere recycled their elements, while future inhabitants would later eat drink and make merry
Thinking about origin of our water and elements, where they circulated and were biologically active, can be quite scary

The sacred interconnectedness of what we bury and excrete
Later to become what we occasionally pray over, drink and eat.
Then look up at the nighttime heavens and daytime sky
Earth has elements and creation in limited supply
Mankind’s evolution
An age of war, food chain contamination, radiation and environmental pollution

Even though this seemingly insignificant I am is almost all that’s left
I’m feeling far from feeling bereft

Events may appear as if there’s little motion after the aftermath on this path
As if we haven’t moved or started
Our vehicle is in Park
Momentum previously and forever powered by the Divine Spark

Yet those who can create and dream are often the first upon to be looked at as naronim
Things are not always as they seemingly seem
in this melodramatic cosmic dream

Up your spine slowly creeps the joyous thrilling chill
That arises forth from being so quiet and still
Simchas comes from being in the emanation of the sacred flame of the burning bush
Have a little pat on your keppie
And some guidance from a loving potch on the tush
Blog mir bist du shane – Please let me explain
The greatest wealth even beyond scriptural verse and the wisdom that emanates from them
Is the joyous experience, belief and knowledge of Hashem
Some might call creation a quirk
Yet miraculously it all seems to work

Call it Kaivalyam, Rapture, SatChitAnandam, Holy Spirit, Shekinah, Shunyata, Ecstatic Pranaspanganam, Slokas, Sutras, Mitzvahs, Commandments or simply Love in the form good deeds
Maybe even sacred speeds and feeds

All this Grace
Consciousness sidetracked, parked in Cyberspace
Throughout every world and realm
Elation in the joy of expressive creation
All this while
Can’t you see G-d in a baby’s smile
You can’t be too intellectually smug after a baby’s hug

The Zaide and Bubie I could not ever know
From whence did they come and where or where did they ever go?
Aunts and Uncles and Cousins and Kin
Our hearts have been scarred, torn, rendered so deeply within
All these memorials and web sites on display

The Germans display shame and guilt, with the genocide of over 2 million children out of 6+ million Jews
They simply got away ? Such horrific news for mankind to excuse?
What can anyone say, there’s never enough reparations or karma to pay
The ghosts of dead children left in the ditch of inhumanity, to cry and never to play

But humbly we are here returning to the Niedzieliskan Catalytic Realm
Before it’s too late to mention the names of Nussenbaume and Feilgut to commemorate
And with a feathered touch that our consciousness may tremble, shudder and twitch
Remembering the thousands form Tarnow, Brezkow, Cracow, that perished in the gas chambers or shot perhaps into a forested ditch.

Yet such a mystery how the Divine Spark proliferated as the hand and breath of Hashem guides our genes
Love manifests Gilgul, Hashem cares so very much, his love even so much more than it seems
Our souls our dreams, our hearts aspire
In the most loving and tender warmth of sacred fire
Let us give sadness and sorrow a wide berth
Let us honor and praise forever and for all time, Hashem’s eternal presence in this His beautifully created Earth