A poem by my father, Zeev Kachel
I'm not sorry for the hours that I wasted
Suspended in my dreams and idle thought
I'm not sorry for the days I ruined
The only thing I care about is the luster I did blot
I care that that’s the way our lives are going
In power games, for which we'll pay the price,
I ache, because of our misunderstanding
Because that which is between us turned hard as ice
I care nothing for the roses that have withered
Over their fleeting fragrance I will shed no tears
What pains me now is the way I hurt you
And that if I ask forgiveness, no one hears
No way to settle this, to heal the cuts
In this world there's a price for everything
The echo of our steps is the witness left behind us
As the light that glowed upon us is already blackening.
Excerpt from Home
"I was dazed with the beautiful enormity of emotions as I read through the pages of this eloquent read. The range in which this read has stretched my heart and soul through an abundant of emotions that have enraptured my mind. I found myself laughing with joy for the wonder of greatness felt."
- De Ann Townes Jr., Poet
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