Writing

I never paid attention when I went to Jewish school, and I never once sat through services 

And yet I know the sound, like a heartbeat in grey 

The sting of hate, countless lives lost: death.

It is true; we have forgotten parlous strife!

Endowed with life, eager to neglect.

In a beautiful bundle

Of fresh red roses,

Does anyone notice

The one that is withering?

In a perfect sky

Full of bright, twinkling stars,

I’m learning that one letter 

Can make all the difference; 

One letter, or 

The lack thereof 

Could burn down a dream or 

Editor's Note: This painting, Crossing Familiar Waters, is the March winner of The Tomorrow Project's monthly contests. 

When the air finally lets go, 

it whispers secrets in soft sighs

of thawing Earth and blooming hope, 

where winter’s hush gently dies.