an old writer and his words

  • KYIV

    From the moment it began, we knew, it wasobvious that peace and freedom were under assault,Russia had thrown societal norms to the wind. Under gunmetal gray skies they attacked by air,killing women, children, destroying hospitals, homesraining hell on the innocents with nowhere to turn.All we could do was watch, pray and offer paltry aidin the…

    Lou Faber

  • APSE SOLUTION

    One downside of growing upJewish is that you never meetan angel or a church mouse I have met angels, although theywere in the guise of Bodhisattvas,and there are a surprising numberif you look carefully enough. As to church mice, I do haveto wonder why they are symbolic,for they have vast homes,direct access to God, orthe…

    Lou Faber

  • INVASION

    The light has fadedand the wetland lies underits mantle of faint starlight. The birds are there, wecan hear them, but our eyesdo not allow us to see them,despite our desire to havemore time with them. They can see us, in our well lit homes, staring out,but they do not want particularly to see us. To us they…

    Lou Faber

  • THE PROMISE

    The moon has gone past full and as waning as I write, it’s slow retreat hopefully taking with it the burden of winter, that we now must measure in feet, the inches having been heaved up, one upon another. Spring will come soon for a taste of it, for spring is an inveterate tease, preferring…

    Lou Faber

  • GAME, SET, MATCH

    As a child, a Jewish child no less, December was always a bit difficult. We had Channukah, which no Jew would dare claim grew solely to compete with Christmas, although we all knew that was precisely what had happened. The problem was Christmas, but had nothing to do with Jesus, or the church or even…

    Lou Faber

  • LEAVING

    The trees seem to know that we are leaving, why else would they shed their leaves so early, the only tears they are allowed to cry. It cannot be a blight, or so we think it, just our departure that has caused this premature pining for a winter we all know will arrive too soon…

    Lou Faber

  • SENTINEL

    The streetlight is a nocturnal Sentinel staring down. In some cities in other parts of this it could tell of the cries of drunks stumbling from closing bars, ambulances flashing in its cast shadows. On the street with sleeping homes it tells only of the snow that cradles its base.

    Lou Faber

  • THIN ICE

    When we were much younger we would meet by the edge of the pond each day after winter’s first taste and pry rocks from the bank with frozen fingers, one the size of a fist, others even larger. We would carefully aim and in a crystal parabola watch as they hit the frozen surface, one…

    Lou Faber