poniedziałek, 31 grudnia 2007

H.H. Phakchok Rinpoche


H.H. Phakchok Rinpoche, my Guru

sobota, 29 grudnia 2007

Nostalgic vision (in my dreams)

Nostalgic vision (in my dreams)

Memories brought me again to the place that I have once beloved.

Proudly situated on the seven hills[1], the city of Lisbon ---

Imperial past and the ocean’s presence,

The humming of the waves.


I can see myself walking through the streets of Alfama [2],

I can hear the music of piercing nostalgia ---

Amalia Rodrigues[3], the queen of fado[4] and the longing in her voice...

The pain of parting, disappointment and the romantic loss.

Narrow, winding alleys climb up high,

Portuguese matronas dressed in black,

they intently observe each passing person.

Life in slow motion, I’m drinking my galão[5]...

Stuffy air, the aroma of vino tinto and porto,

the smoke, the laughter.

The night has come, the city is ablaze with lights

The dream has to end...

COPYRIGHT by Julia E. Wahl 2001

[1] The seven hills of Lisbon: Castelo, Graça, Monte, Penha de Fraa, S. Pedro de Alcântara, Santa Catarina , Estrela

[2] One of Lisbon’s districts; dated to sometime in 1100 (the name comes from Arabic Al-hamma), it's crowned by the old castle São Jorge

[3] the singer-songwriter who powerfully personified her country's beautiful Fado music

[4] Fado music (fate, or destiny) - Fado began as a howl out of the dives and houses of ill repute along the Lisbon waterfront. The lyrics dwell on themes of longing, sadness and fatalism, to a wistful accompaniment made up of guitars and woodwinds. Melodically, Fado draws on Arabic, African and Iberian influences. The Cape Verdean Morna style made famous by Cesaria Evora is a close cousin.

[5] Coffee (with hot milk) served in tall glasses with a long coffee spoon

Gas chamber of childhood



Gas chamber of childhood

Julia E. Wahl

Little Adolf, he doesn't understand

His father's persecutions, his grievous acts.

Hitting him with a heavy belt, his father would say, "You have to be a man."

"Father, stop, please stop...”, the little voice begging.

There's no hope in the boy's eyes. Exterior silence, the soul is broken.

Adolf is bleeding, his father is taking the belt away.

He says, "Go eat your supper."

Any reason is good, all reasons are. Hiding in the corner, hoping not to be found.

The maltreation has no end. It will never stop.

30 years and 10 million skeletons later,

He still wakes up at night screaming - "Father, please, stop hitting me".

In the morning he commands to destroy another village,

"Kill the children," he stresses.

Copyright by Julia E. Wahl 2001

PEACE

Julia E. Wahl




Peace

Zecher Yonatan
In remembr
ance of Jonathan

Salomon, your father standing there in the Auschwitz uniform, the Shield of David on his shoulder.

Esther, your mother lies naked on a pile of rotten bodies, she has a number tattooed on her forearm.

Rachel, your sister was already dead by then, she died in a ghetto in Łódź[1].

And you were nine and you survived, the death march[2] did not kill you.

You came back to Kraków[3] but nobody was there anymore.

Your house was empty, only a Menorah standing on the table.

Your school had a Swastika[4] painted on its wall.

They had to put you in an orphanage, and there were other children with you.

Francio became your best friend, but you had to leave. “You’re going home”, they told you one day, and you didn’t understand but they took anyway.

You finally came to Eretz Yisrael[5] but it was so different from all that you knew.

And many years have passed but you have not yet found your peace, and every dream reminded you of Cyclone B[6].

On your twenty-fifth birthday you married Ofra, a Sephardic[7] Jew.

“I’m your ‘ahava[8]”, she said, and you almost forgot about the childhood’s horror, about Rabbi Ibn-Ibrahim who was killed on the ‘Kristallnacht’[9].

And you were almost free again...

Your wife gave you a son, Salomon you named him after his grandfather.

He was a beautiful boy and when he was older he joined the IDF[10].

You were so proud and you would say - “My Dear Solek, what a great soldier he is”.

On the Yom HaShoah[11] your son was killed, shot by a Palestinian gunman.

You would then visit his grave everyday and pray to ‘Yahweh’ for your final rest as life had no meaning anymore,

And He would listen to your prayers and you would attain your peace.

One spring day you noticed a little boy, the child’s body was shaking with sobs

And you recognized the same fear that you once had in your eyes.

You covered the body of his Palestinian mother.

You took him home, and he became your son.

Peace, that was his name.

________________________________________________________________________

Copyright by Julia E. Wahl 2001

E-mail: KarmaYesheTsomo@gmail.com

________________________________________________________________________



[1] Lodz Polish city that was home to the first major ghetto in April 1940. 144,000 people lived in 1.6 square miles in September 1941. After growing in size with immigrants from conquered lands, many were sent to Chełmno and in 1944 the ghetto was liquidated and the remaining Jews were sent to Auschwitz

[2] When Russian armies moved in from the East, the concentration camps were taken apart and the prisoners marched to Germany, in camps such as Bergen-Belsen. A third of the prisoners died in January 1945.

[3] (Pol.); (Eng.) Cracow; (Ger.) Krakau - A city in Poland, not so far from Auschwitz-Birkenau camps

[4] Symbol of the Nazis, a cross with equal arms bent at a right angle. It was an ancient symbol of good luck and is a contemporary symbol of the Hindu religion. Some believe the Swastika was the root of the Indo-European scripts

[5] (Heb.) The Land of Israel

[6] Zyklon B While other gas chambers used carbon monoxide, Auschwitz used this cyanide gas made of prussic acid from a company partly owned by I.G. Farben

[7] of Mediterranean Jewish tradition

[8] (Heb.) love [n]

[9] "Night of Broken Glass," Nazi pogrom on Nov. 9-10, 1938; the worst pogrom ever, it marked the Holocaust's start

[10] Israeli Defence Forces

[11] Holocaust Memorial Day