an old writer and his words

  • FINDING PEACE

    It wasn’t lost on me, mother, that this yearon the anniversary of death, you had been goneeighteen years, Chai in your beloved Hebrew,a lifetime for me, having never met yousave in the half of my genes you implantedin me when I was implanted in you. As you aged, alone, did you wonder whatbecame of the…

    Lou Faber

  • SENBAZURU

    10,000 origami cranesfloated down over Tokyoeach bearing the soul of one gone in nature’s recent fury.Each crane cried freelythe tears flowing into the Sumidaforming a wave that washesback to the sea, replenishing its loss.We, too, shed our tearsand look skywardsad in the knowledgethat with each passing daystill more craneswill fill the skymore tears seep backto…

    Lou Faber

  • HARLAN

    You came, Harlan, to Rochestersomewhere in an endless winter,“Ellison in Tundraland” you said.We all chuckled approvingly. You said a short prayerclimbing into the rusting Opel,sliding on the edgeof oblivion, andthe approaching snowplow. You stood, hoarse, smellingof Borkum Riff and English Leather,a tweed jacket over a polo shirtand thinning jeansand told us of the insanityof television,…

    Lou Faber

  • FIRST KISS

    You ask me if I rememberwhen we first kissed, and then addand what was it really like for me. I know the answer you expect,and I am reluctant to tell youotherwise, but I have to be honest. It was moments after I left youat your door on our first date,having found my car finallyin the…

    Lou Faber

  • MANUAL LABOR

    (Instructions for Mourning a Marriage) It didn’t come with an instruction manual,no simple, poorly translated diagramstelling me to “be inserting Tab Ainto the Slot B,” none anywhere to be found.But I was young, and didn’t worry,despite entreaties to get help firstbefore beginning the intricate task of assembly.I laid out all of the parts carefullyuntil it…

    Lou Faber

  • GOING HOME

    They say you cannot go homeagain, although I have neverhad occasion to meet them. I’ve never been one to followthe dictates of them, unless theywere my parents or spouse, andin the case of my parents, oftennot even when they demanded it,so I went back to the homeof my childhood, a shockinglynew place as I remembered…

    Lou Faber

  • AN AWAKENING

    Take one partGrand Marnier, oneFrangelico, a short cupof coffee, whipped creamonly if you wish,curl on the sofawith your life’sgreatest loveand your firstreal, truly yourfirst Christmas Evemakes you wonderwhy you waitedso long. First published in The Poet: Christmas (2020 United Kingdom)

    Lou Faber

  • ONE STEP TOO FAR

    “As you get older,” he said,“the body grows remarkablyadept at telling you whenyou have done too much,or done something you shouldn’t.” What he didn’t say, the criticalpiece of advice I wish I heard,is that the body only speakswell after the fact, a lecturesurely, but never a warning. No one wants to go a stepshort, to…

    Lou Faber

  • AND UNDER THIS ROCK

    There is one thing that noneof the books on discoveringwho you are when you areadopted bother to tell you. If they did, it wouldn’t changeanything, but it is a burdenyou assumed you’d easily bearthat grows heavy with time. What they don’t warn you isthat you will discover yourself,your heritage that was deniedto you for one…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THIS DAY

    It is December, and in thispart of Florida that simply meansthat a morning jacket is advised,and rain comes as a bit of a surprise.A neighbour was surprised to be toldthat they decorated like a Northerner,but assumed that it was a bit of a dig,though they thought the inflatable snowmanand reindeer captured the season’s spirit.We laugh…

    Lou Faber