Sunday, October 27, 2019


A poem by my father, Zeev Kachel, 1990

At a crossroad here I stand
I kick the past, I kick it, and
I find my lodging somewhere near
I find that I am not quite here          
I am not here, I am not there
Not awake, not asleep, unable to bear
And you, a dove, will fly away
Will not return come spring day
The blessed moments don’t return
I’ve ruined everything, my life I spurn
The hours pass, here comes the night
The day is gone, are you alright?
I’m not alive, I am not dead
I kick the past, and on I tread.

This is my mixed media painting, The Door to My Childhood.

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