At The Ohel

I stood in front ofthe wall of lit tea lights.
Feeling the combined heat
of their tiny flames.
Breathing in their smoke.
Taking in the scene
behind the door,
before the grave.

A young fellow was
re-shelving Tehillim
next to the candles.
Exuding the vibe
of a shop keeper:
"What are you looking for?"
"Nothing, " I said
meaning, everything.

Getting Home (Written 13 Years Ago)

By Neil Fleischmann

When we

remove the

facades of

our garments

And call down

our final curtain

We will return to

our first clothing;

G-d's light

And our

original drapes;

the Heavens