an old writer and his words

  • THE PAPER

    He was 11 when he first discovered it. Jimmy knew immediately that (1) it was something remarkable, (2) he didn’t understand it at all, and (3) he dare not let his parents know he had it. It was (3) that gave him the most worry. Not what they would do to him if they discovered…

    Lou Faber

  • RISING TIME

    Night rises slowlyfrom tangled rootsdragging ocher and rustfrom reluctant trees,promising only winter.We cannot see this,we sense only time eroding,slipping off untilthe trees are naked.They want onlyto hide themselvesin a shimmering gownof snow, recallingtheir verdancy, imagininganother season, a seasonof hope, a seasonof consecration, of light,of resurrection.We stand emotionallystripped on the banksof the stream into whichwe cannot…

    Lou Faber

  • WHENCE

    When you ask me from wheremy family comes, do notlook surprised when I answerthat it depends on the directionof the wind, but with natureas no more than a passive observer.In my case it is the fickle windsof war and diplomacy that markmy origins, my maternal rootsdeeply planted in soil Lithuanian orperhaps Russian or briefly Polish.And…

    Lou Faber

  • THE BLEEDING EDGE

    We are lovers of novelty, we wantall that is new or clingingto what we imagine are our roots.It has long been this way,you need only look at the map.Hampshire, York, Jersey, andfor that matter Brunswick and Mexico.We crave innovation, we alwayswant to be on the cutting edge, forgettingthat all too soon it will becomethe bleeding…

    Lou Faber

  • SAINTS AND SINNERS

    I am a distant grandchildof saints and Herod,kings and lords, andVisigoths for good measure. That half of me iswoven of ever thinnerbranches on a treethat threatens to topplefrom the lightnessof its other side, rootsdeep in the rich soilof Lithuania, the rootshitting bedrock, andthe branches stuntedand there a simpleAshkenazi Jew.

    Lou Faber

  • NAMASTE

    There was a time, still withinmemory’s ever more tenuous graspthat I imagined myself, at this age,as a monk in a Buddhist templein Kyoto, that I had assumed a silenceimposed by lack of language, not faith. I am certain that the Japaneseare pleased that I let that dreampass unfulfilled, that I confinemy practice to that American…

    Lou Faber

  • GROUNDED

    it was so much easier when I could stillimagine myself a bird, untetheredand free to take flight on a whim. In dreams I often flew, no Icarusbut a raptor, peering down, seeingwith a clarity the earth denied me. Now my roots have taken holdin the enmeshing soil plunged deepand spread tendrils anchoring me, and even…

    Lou Faber