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
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"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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