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Lifted Up My Eyes in the Kitchen
by Varda Bronfman
Welcome to Yated's ranks of excellent writers and poets:
VARDA BRONFMAN, whose name may be familiar from her pieces in
"Our Lives" etc. Her fascinating book on chessed, "The Hidden
World", with its built-in surprise rewards, was reviewed here
when it came out. We hope to feature her frequently. And now,
Varda the Poet. Hold on to your hats, ladies, this is mind
searing, emotion provoking, gut stuff. You will surely want to
read more, and Varda's upcoming book of poems, "I REMEMBERED IN
THE NIGHT YOUR NAME", will surely be a prized acquisition for
soul food in the kitchen.
Look through Varda's eyes and join her in thanking Hashem "for
making life a constant kitchen..."
Lifted up my eyes in the kitchen
And saw dried peas trembling
On the glass plate
Dirty pots waiting patiently
But my own impatience affronting them
Like a drawn sword.
It was symphonies
When the sweet paprika
Clattered down in the sink.
There was no one in particular
To hear, except for
The One Above Who laughed with me
And also makes the oatmeal date sandwich cookies
Have special powers
So that I saw how licking the bowl
Was good for me
Despite another opinion.
And the bowl, wooden spoon
And crumbs on the table filled me with
Great, sweet thankfulness.
When I walked out of the kitchen
And onto the balcony
I thanked Him for the sunlight
On my eyeballs, especially as I rotate my head,
Thanked Him for making life
A constant kitchen
With all the burners cooking,
The pots boiling away
And both racks in the oven full.
Who turns globs of cookie dough into jewels...
Thanked Him for being in there with me
When I close my eyes
And open them
In the dark,
In the light.
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