…so fragile


when tender mercies mourn
above forgotten mornings,
with sand beneath the alabaster dreams,
how few the sounds are
of unsung old memories,
unworthy on the parchment of what seems,
to be just shallow
echoes of some senses,
long buried
in my bloody battlefields.

they’re all Moriahs,
all my hills and mountains,
with stairs cut deep into my veins;

they’re mine the treasures,
mine the earnings
of all the bloody,
barren rains…

13 thoughts on “Moriah…

  1. Rom,

    Paired with this photograph the poem cuts stairs deep into my heart. Is your Moriah a place of sacrifice, or a place of learning? It seems to me the two meanings coalesce…each requiring the other to become more than just some “shallow echoes of some senses…” Most of all this poem and photograph will remain a haunting echo in my mind for some time. I think I am having a difficult time expressing myself because the photograph has hit me like a sledgehammer.

    Thank you,



    1. It’s been some time since I wanted to post this, but I just couldn’t… Moriah is everything what shouldn’t ever have happened…. Moriah is my curse and my salvation… The curse of being who I am, and the salvation from what I could have been… Moriah should be the generational obligation of every human being, to remember what religion is all about: the sacrifice of innocence, slavery and ultimately death…
      No Being has the right to demand the raising of a knife against an innocent human being…
      It took me nearly two decades to refuse being a toy…

      Thank you Ron…


  2. Beautiful my friend
    Who are these two chubby cuties? The look in their eyes is so stunning as if they speak to me. Excuse my ignorance, but do you happen to know them or were they your distant relatives?
    Why would humans label others like these kids arw labled with the star of David? How cruel is the human being!


    1. Hi Mike,
      As much as know, they are little children from a WWII Lithuanian Jewish getto… I can’t tell if they have survived, as unfortunately the Lithuanian death toll was amongst the highest as per nation in Eastern and Central Europe…
      My maternal grandmother was a bit older when my grandgrandfather had to leave Northern Transylvania in the middle of the night with just a suitcase…
      Well, in a sense they are my relatives, and who knows maybe more than I know, as my family originates from roughly the same geographical area…
      Why would humans do that? Oh my brother, if I could give you an answer…

      Thank you for passing by…


  3. This makes me feel like crying. two beautiful children, innocent, and labelled like that, tagged?! They’re so innocent, unknowing what it means… that’s the cruelty. It’s bad enough that adults participate in cruelty to one another… but children. A very powerful post, Rom. any you’re right, we should NEVER forget.
    Blessings be.


    1. Dear Heidi,

      Thank you so much for sharing in this common grief… I wish no one should have ever seen pictures like this..After finding this picture on the net, the image of these innocent, beautiful children and the thought of what may have happened to them haunted me every day, making my heart shrink whenever I looked at my own four children…

      Blessings to you as well, and thank you for reblogging.


      1. Absolutely. it is so easy to push things away, to not want to think about things… but I feel as you, and I’m sure many other compassionate people do too. It is not an easy picture to look at, and good on you for posting, for that uncomfortable-ness it invokes reminds us exactly WHY we should never forget. Abuse happens every day, in small ways and horrific ways, maybe not in the same way, but in ways that still should not be… and again, this is a reminder.
        Your poem of course, goes wonderfully – sorry I do not mean to detract from your poem. That too is a powerful piece, and I admire you for this post.
        So, thank you.


Please Leave a Reply 👣

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s