Gold eyes bathed in sunlight, changing colors,
a human kaleidoscope dancing with the
sprawling sun;

soothing eyes, compassionate spheres
of energy;

perceptive eyes, omniscient
and visionary;

majestic eyes, perched on a
noble face;

I remember her soft, expressive face, her
enchanting eyes eerily encircling me,
shielding me from evil,
and revealing love;

Her celestial spirit of courage, joy, and
hope still inspires me, breathing life
and beauty into my lonely flesh.

I lost her 46-years ago. Yet she lives inside my
being, nestled inside my secret mansion where
my true self resides. And I exist within her
dream, her poetic vision of me.

When the rushing, tumultuous waves of my
existence shatter my faith, a tattered veil
that covers me, she speaks gently to me,
calms my wounded holy center,
my sacred place, ripped apart
by tragedy, and still, she
soothes me, takes me
to a quiet place,
guides me,
with love.
She is my proof that Hashem, my G-d
exists.

She is my Jewish mother who dances
ecstatically up and down the
Tree of Life
and across
the river
of

my spirit. And she feeds me, blesses
me with her beauty, her love, her
joy.

She died too soon at the age of 50.
But she left me her sacred place.
We meet in this holy
dreamscape.

Whenever I’m lost, we meet.
I protest against Hashem
and deny His existence.
She laughs, caresses
the tattered veil
that covers me,
takes out her
sewing kit,
and sews.

Soon, I possess a silky veil as smooth as
a baby’s skin.

I am blessed. And suddenly, I wear
her gold eyes. I see the universe
as she does. I share her visions.
I’m touched by the divine.