Thursday, September 27, 2018

We pass

By my father, Zeev Kachel

We pass by each other without speaking, dumbly
We look at each other—blindly
Loneliness crying out of our eyes
But we keep on, silently.
Each one of us carrying a load 
Each one suffering, utterly slowed
Each one going on, down this road

See there, a couple just passed in embrace.
We used to walk this way, do you still remember?
You looked forward to my coming.
In the midst of spring blossom, here's the sorrow of fall.
And the recognition that it's all over.
Today, between us came a wall.
Now, never to return, life has all
But passed. That is fall.
No one to shake a hand, no one to give a nod.
You and me, through this isolation we plod.
It's fall: all flawed.

"This radiant book is an exploration of the bond between a daughter and father and the book overflows with some of the most eloquent poetic moments in print. HOME is an invitation, a very personal one, and should not be passed over." 
Grady Harp, Hall of Fame Reviewer

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