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Daf Yomi

morning ritual: open the app, get to the page, stare at words in a language I never learned

reading the translation where

ancient rabbis argue the minutiae of festivals, feasts, life passages unravelling the halacha that bound the limits of my childhood

yet learning is an act of resistance for those of my gender

wrestling with these texts the whole way through is a commitment of seven years

longer than many marriages but i’ll get to that book later

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The Ides of March

The city closed on the Ides of March as the sickness spread

We were assured in a couple of weeks we would flatten the curve

Instead, the curve became a roller coaster

much like my life since the previous Ides of March when I rushed to my mother’s newly-lifeless body

Two years later, as the date again approaches, as I still sit in social isolation, I watch my calendar with anxious anticipation, the unknown lingering in the infected air

Someone recently asked me what the Ides of March means

The Ides of March marks beginnings and endings, history and yesterday, transitions from one world to another

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Graveside Kaddish

Ten men chant; Their voices in unison Resonate in the open air.

My lips move in silence to the cadence of words I hear for the first time

Standing to the side Spectator and participant, Survivor and mourner.

Mortality and eternity, A life, a memory.

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Vibrant red and orange light the sky While my phone vibrates with your resonance.

I keep staring at the horizon, Full of possibilities in the dawn’s frost

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Montreal

When I told him I wanted to go to Montreal, his reaction was swift and decisive. Everyone there is a supermodel. Someone with my looks won’t fit in. He pointed out the lines on my neck and the baby fat around my cheeks and chin that remained despite years of adulthood.

I was never skinny enough, even when, as a teen I would ride my bicycle in the evening while carloads of boys sped by and yelled “Fat bitch” at me. And now, here I was, faced with a man whose imperfections rivaled my own, which he never hesitated to point out.

“People who look like us have a hard time finding jobs,” he said after being laid off from yet again after six months.

“Talk to your therapist about your hair,” he said, after I bragged that I had never been to a salon.

Twenty years later, I still haven’t been to a salon or Montreal, though I almost made it to the latter before a pandemic forced me to cancel my flight. Not my weight or my hair or my job or my therapist or a person I allowed dominion over my worth, my life, and my travel plans.

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Why He Cries

I wrote this song almost 20 years ago. It’s a bit over the top, but I think it’s still relevant in light of current world events. You can give a listen here: https://paulaevekirman.bandcamp.com/track/why-he-cries

As the dawn brings a new day Seems like no one has something good to say Building walls around our hearts Where’s the love when lives are torn apart? Shouting names we can’t repeat To those who we think are incomplete And then somehow the truth gets masked in lies And He watches And we wonder why He cries And we speak our words of hate And we cast our cloak of fear And we cut our hearts with pain As our own demise draws near And we neatly seal our fate And no words of love we hear And we beat and kill and maim As He gently sheds His tears Flip the channel to the news It’s enough to give anyone the blues I can’t bear to watch this pain All this fighting just seems so insane They say the war has to be won But who wins when all is said and done? Broken dreams, broken hearts, broken lives And He watches And we wonder why He cries And we speak our words of hate And we cast our cloak of fear And we cut our hearts with pain As our own demise draws near And we neatly seal our fate And no words of love we hear And we beat and kill and maim As He gently sheds His tears It’s the way we choose to live We can choose to take or choose to give It’s what we have to demand Come to grips with what we don’t understand Never say it’s not their fault They’re just acting upon what they’ve been taught Bloody footprints on the ground and in our lives And He watches And we wonder why He cries And we speak our words of hate And we cast our cloak of fear And we cut our hearts with pain As our own demise draws near And we neatly seal our fate And no words of love we hear And we beat and kill and maim As He gently sheds His tears And we rationalize our words And we turn our heads in shame And we think of all we’ve hurt And we try to spread the blame And we struggle with our deeds And we try to hide our fear And we’re sowing the wrong seeds And He gently sheds his tears