The Eowiggle

January 27th, is Holocaust memorial day in Germany. This poem is written in honor of a dear friend and Holocaust survivor. A pathway in the Jewish cemetery in Berlin Weissensee    I wish I wish I could go back with you   through corridors of time, be near to you, on that bless’d accursed day… You boarded a train that led you down a path marked out with life, while for your loves, bearing a star, it was a cattle car. Life would never be the same for you. The veil of death its shadow cast even on brightest days. Your world collapsed as did your trust in God and in men past. Had I been your interpreter, the language of the Queen, would have bound our hearts beyond our ages. Even then, I think we'd have been friends. Life's twisted paths, a mystery to you, led you back to the land you fled. Could you ever smile upon it again? The land ...

A few nights ago, I could not fall asleep. My mind kept wandering back to a central theme: death. My husband lost his father a year ago. I have watched him grieve the loss of his dad and not known how to enter his grief very well. One common description of losing a loved one I had heard is that it feels as if the carpet is being pulled out from underneath one’s feet. The very fabric of our lives seems to be fraying. We seem to lose our standing, our relational footing is shaken, especially in the loss of a parent whose presence was so foundational to our life. We lose our balance and find ourselves in a free-fall of grief, disorientation and not knowing how to stabilize ourselves. Where does one find stability when one’s footing is lost? Sleep was still not coming.    But then my mind, in a semi-awake state, started wandering down another path, a carpeted hallway. I saw my life as a long carpet on which I walked down. I saw a single thick strand of that carpet being ...