In my dream — I’m scrambling up numerous stairs leading to an altar

In my dream —

I’m scrambling up numerous stairs leading to an altar that shines brilliantly. The stairs are of pink marble, the likes of which I’ve never seen in my entire life. Crowds, large crowds are ascending the stairs, with me in their midst.

And at the top, standing in a single row, are the priests. Their heads shaven, they wear long gowns. They urge those who are climbing, “Come on, climb! Overcome the obstacles!” It’s a bright, beautiful day. Hordes swarm around me, each person holding a candle. No one seems to know what’s on the other side of the altar.

The climb is hard. No one helps the other, each person presses on by himself, trying to muster his own strength, clinging to the trust that once up there, he’ll win some grand prize. A strong rush of air. Flames dwindle. Some climbers plummet and their flames are extinguished. Others press on without casting a glance down. The main goal — to arrive, and to keep the flame alive.

The hordes diminish. I am among the few, the lucky ones, tired but glad to arrive. Then, we’re seized by shock.

On the other side of the altar is a gaping abyss. Across its bottom lies a spectacular valley. We step back, but the priests cajole. “Now that you’ve arrived, jump into the gorge!” And its clear: whoever jumps will lose their life.

Still, some take the plunge. They fling themselves over and die. And the priests force everyone to jump.

The abyss casts fear over me. 

I try to mount the wall, to find something, anything to hold onto. I want to shout out to those still climbing behind, to warn them. I want to turn back…

Everyone laughs. The abyss gapes open…

[Told by my mother, Judith Kachel]

Can We Still Love

Poetry

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In an era that is amazement and wonder on one hand, and destruction and hate on the other, and facing the threat of an even more horrific holocaust in our future, two poets present a piercing question: can we still love? And love means one another, human to human.

This book is the 'I believe' statement of the poet, author and artist Zeev Kachel, a man whose most closely-held values and aspirations have been put to the test in the course of WWI and WWII. It is also the 'I believe' statement of his daughter, USA Today bestselling author, poet and artist Uvi Poznansky, who compiled her own work alongside his, and translated his poems from Hebrew so they can become an inspiring force to you.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“I was immediately introduced to a collection of poems that not only touched me, they sprung me directly into what it is like to be at war…”