The Tug of Souls

Matrimonially extracted from Grace

Two souls' arms steadfast, embrace

Cloaked in comfort, foreheads converged,

Hands intertwined and traditions merged

United by covenant in Goodness’ presence

In the shadow of doubt and piercing reticence

Promises pledged, alas unrequited

Lies greedily tendered, trust now subsided

Faith dissolved in rile and segregation

In opposition hope shouts for remediation

Solace at last sought in legal jargon

Relief partial, hearts still hardened

Liberation gained in guided dissolution

In loss’ sting there is no absolution

Decisions armored, yet imprudently strategized

Love remembers what fate never realized

By Rachel Elovitz, Feb 2011

A Tale of Two Sisters

This offering was originally a response to my sister - after reading a poem she wrote about my nieces.  It is an ode to them with a wish that what they share will permeate the walls of the Juvenile Court and the families who enter there.

Bereft of slumber and of sluggish hand

On your poetic tender my eyes humbly land

To read a tale of two sisters, dissimilarly inclined

One a whirling dervish, one bookishly sublime

Of their doting alliance and its innate blisters

After all…these two are sisters

In each there is empathy, ability, and light

In each there is humility, compassion, and insight

To merit their love and yield their affection

Is a testament to the recipient - absent dialogue, sans question

They are the progeny of generations of goodness - and yes, fallibility

But of history’s lessons they are the auspicious beneficiaries

And should peace ever seem at one's insufferable distance

Her sister will be there to mitigate resistance

No doubt should lie in this final proffer

That in their disparate manner, they are bonded forever

By Rachel Elovitz, Feb 2011

Wonderland Lost

There is no Cinderella 

Peter Pan is grown

That doesn’t keep him sober

Nor does it keep him home

Old King Cole’s not so merry

His wife’s the Wicked Witch

Red Riding Hood seeks shelter

From her wrath - and her switch

Wonderland is a wasteland

The Giving Tree a stump

Little Bo Peep’s playground

Is a needle-infested dump

Harold grabs his purple crayon

And draws Jonah’s whale

In its belly he finds his haven

A compulsory fairy-tale

By Rachel Elovitz, Feb 2011

Truth's Lodging

For those grieving the loss of a marriage, the end of a cherished relationship, and the absence of answers

Forego ardent protest and creative supplication 

Relying on inference - a fool's condemnation

Discard diffidence, perception's jaded visor

Obscurity and darkness, veracity's quagmire

Truth's breath is transparent, impervious to contagion

Armored against malice and miscalculation

Empathy and insight born of its womb 

In its embrace, deceit finds its tomb 

To pursue its lodging, a futile expedition

Mourning its absence, gratuitous self-sedition

In the breast of its seeker – therein ends the quest 

Its province ubiquitous; its form manifest

                                                        

Originally printed on Waxing Lyrical on February 5, 2011

This Second

An Ode to Legal Guardians and Adoptive Parents

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Her dance is mercifully blissful

Her laughter, heaven’s cackle  

A sparse apartment for seven

Her enchanted, cherubim castle

Of her father’s crime she’s clueless

She knows not her Mother’s love - or slaughter

The voices she hears each morning

Say that she’s her Aunt and Uncle’s daughter

Her brother tenderly takes her hand

As he opens a Courtroom door

He remembers all too well

The life they had before

His manner is always courteous

His speech, a rejection of his sorrow

For him the journey begins this second

Not yesterday, not tomorrow

From the bench a ruling

Formality these children cannot comprehend

They sit quietly at a table

Mom and Dad at either end

That their parents did not give them birth

Merits zero contemplation

That they are loved and nurtured

Is their soul consideration

By Rachel Elovitz
Originally printed on February 10, 2011, on Waxing Lyrical at http://rachelaelovitz.blogspot.com/

Judgment's Lobby (aka Heaven Imagined)

Yonder bail and creed

Mislaid derision; cutting mockery

Gone judicial indecision  

Marital mayhem and cacophony 

Trespass tarries onward

Cool malfeasance finds oblivion

Through love's breath, liberal and transparent

Iniquity eagerly wakes contrition

Life's disquiets no longer hobby

Sagacity soars in judgment's lobby

libels unearthed; truth shedding mystery

In this real nocturnal reverie

By Rachel A. Elovitz

June 5, 2014

Application for Amnesty

My train extends a thousand miles
Every boxcar crammed with cargo
Chronicles sealed in steel
I’m carrying 4000 tons
I want desperately to bring this freight to a halt
To get off this monorail
To unbolt the caboose door
Dash down the stairs
And amble up the open tracks
Savoring whatever time I’ve left of this singular journey
Leaving behind the weight of things
The reels of acid that daily revisit
Dissolving my insides
Extinguishing judgment
Pain as pointless as it is poignant
Consuming all that could be
Atonement for naught
Should my sins repeat
Injuring the brakemen, flagmen, ticket collectors - all
Every part of me tarnished and tired
And moving 70 miles an hour
But I can open the brake pipe
Slow this train
Bring it to a stop
Walk off
And wave goodbye 
An application for amnesty 
Before I march forward
My compass northbound
Toward a raging tsunami 
It pours over and through me
Carrying away grime and folly
I gaze over my right shoulder
The train is dazzling in the sun, a radiant red
Its materials are unencumbered
Pages without pain
The train and its cargo vanish inside me
Its ride was mine
But not me

Not anymore

By Rachel A. Elovitz

Originally printed as "Northbound" on Waxing Lyrical at rachelaelovitz.blogspot.com on February 15, 2011 

Accord and Satisfaction

She was stationed at the head 
of a sprawling table

Clad in impartiality
surrounded by 6 empty chairs 
“They’ve mostly arrived,” the Coordinator tells her

Conciliation and empathy were no shows
Resentment and repudiation came early
They marched into the room, 
their steps archetypically discordant

She listened, as barristers bloviated 
and parties postured
She heard - enmity’s voice 
and antipathy’s quiet rage
She watched, the parties’ unsteady hands 
and unmanageable tears

She asked about interests, rather than positions
She probed for common ground – and found it
In the face of an absent child

The discussion turned to him
To his education, his welfare, his access to two parents
Areas of solidarity unearthed – and manifold

She listened, as rigidity crumbled 
and tensions thawed
She heard, the plunge of positions 
and good will’s eruption
And she marveled, as clenched hands released, 
faces brightened, 
and a collaborative future was forged


First published on Waxing Lyrical at rachelaelovitz.blogspot.com/ on March 31, 2011

A Tired Esquire

I could no longer listen
My nerves shredded, screaming
Dear Client, grant my repose!


By Rachel A. Elovitz
May 31, 2014

From Foster to Morrow

She’s barely thirty

Mother to eight - a ninth on the way

She considered birth control

But with whom would she play

One baby’s daddy was murdered

One stays busy planting his seed

He’s indifferent to his son's truancy

And urgent psychological need

One papa is on methadone maintenance

Another's eligible for parole in fifteen

One’s cuddled behind a dumpster

Moans as he sleeps - and wakes with a scream

Three babies’ daddies live pillar to post

Borrowing from Peter - paying Paul late

Their daughters' calls go unanswered

Weekend visits - too difficult to make

We have all that we need

Says the Mother of eight – soon nine

I have my children’s “income”

And get them to school half the time

Yes, their Medicaid has lapsed

And no, I cannot fill their prescriptions

But it was the government’s error

So they can shove their contrition

Send the parenting aid away

My home thrives in disorder

If Your Honor disagrees

Do a pick up Order

Now eight brothers and sisters

Have no reason to roam

They sleep soundly in four beds

Across three foster homes

Like emerging butterflies

Their wings cautiously unfold

They’ve been given tomorrow

Their wingspan yet untold

I can't wait for Mom to see us

Just look at how we've grown

She'll shower us with kisses

And then she'll take us home

First printed as "Emerging Butterflies" on Waxing Lyrical at Elovitz@blogspot.com on April 25, 2011