The Seven Directions / Story of a Childhood

The Seven Directions

As a child I lived in a bungalow

with my brother , mother and my father.

My father provided the house.

My mother sustained it ,

and made it a home .

We had many welcome guests,

and we all withdrew to the interior of that home

to safety and to a loving  warmth of family .

On the left side of the house was a funeral home.

On the right was a doctor’s office.

My father would often joke that if he ever became

ill he was all  set :

The doctor’s office to visit was just to the right

and if that failed the funeral home was a short trip to the left.

In the front of the house and across the road to the east

was the Church of the Nazarene .

Its’ doors opened and closed with adults

attending services

and children

attending Sunday school .

Late at night

in the silence of summer midnight,

my father  would sit in the front yard

facing the church and the road .

We would sit with him and listen.

He would sing in a single, sweet

and solemn voice

like a cantor.
His solitary song wafted gently

through the darkness alone.

The notes  floated upwards,

and bathed in moonlight
they sweetly  kissed the stars,

before rising up to heaven

At the back of the house, next to our yard

was George’s house and his yard ,

George went to work with his briefcase

every morning at the same time

and returned every evening

at the same time .

Every week George cut the grass in his back yard

with his  2 wheeled manual mower. He would garden .

The meditative whirring sound of the sharpened blades

back and forth was like a hard earned music every week ,

George’s lawn was beautifully immaculate and green.

He loved working it with rhythmic predictability .

His regular work kept it manicured

and prevented overgrowth and weeds .

In Greek his name meant ” worker of the Earth”.

And George worked the earth .

The doctor on the right worked to help and heal his patients.

George’s lot and the doctor’s lot bordered on each other

George’s lot was deep and long. The doctor’s lot was short.

Every morning I would get up and out of bed

and plant my feet on the earth .

In the morning as I walked out the door

I would see the church in front of me

and the sky above .

I thought of the funeral home on the left

and would look and check the time on a

large clock on the left

that was part of it .

As I walked  out further

I’d see the doctors house on the right

and George with his briefcase

coming around  the front

of the doctor’s house

to catch the bus.

I returned each afternoon from school at noon

and again in the evening to draw myself  inside

to the safety and warmth  of our home .

At night, one night in February, with a sigh,

my father passed away.

He passed away in his sleep unaware

that he was seriously ill.

His bedroom was a few scant feet

from the doctor’s office .

He never visited the doctor ‘s office,

though ,next to his room on the right .

He never visited the funeral home

to the left either.  Time passed.

The church across the street

continued receiving children

for Sunday school as it always did.

The sky remained above as it always did.

George continued working

and mowing his lawn

as he always did .

My brother and I

continued planting our feet on the ground

every day

and at the end of each day

we withdrew within to safety

in the seventh direction.

I often dream of that familiar house

which  my father provided

and  mother sustained .

From “Seeds of Self Fulfillment. Work of Love.”  by PWChaltas



All have different views :
Some view from above
Some from below .
some look back and
some straight ahead
some north or south and
some east or west
some look
Inside and
Some look
some in darkness
some in light
some see from youth
And some see from
Oncoming death but
Except through faith
easily see it all ,
as it is ,
one ,
the same .

Rabbi Did You Say


Rabbi Did You Say

Rabbi Did You Say

Rabbi ,
did you say
you have spoken
with Messiah ,
and that in time
he will come ,
on Ariel’s passing ,
whose brain
but a grape
squeezed ,
to dark ink ,
sweet ruddy wine,
long picked
like a saffron rose
from a stem of thorns?
Did you draw the
crosses in your
prayer book ?
In your recitations,
and your songs,
Illuminate us
with his presence,
transforming lion
of the creator,
as you tell us
of his footsteps
on the plain and
in the dawn ,
by the dark
of His bosom’s Love.

The Travellers

The Travellers


Each one of us

is a traveller

and often a wastrel,

with a soul like

a feather in the wind.

Winds blow it

mercilessly hard and cold

in furious storms without meaning

into thankless death.

Lead our souls like a feather in the wind

like a sheep and like a naïve lamb

led by a loving hand .

Its such a long way to go,

over the waters .

Thalassa, thalassa,

the wind blows ,

and we travel far

from the gentle start

in the morning.

We all have a choice to make

as we go .

“You have come down

now visible ,

Infinite and Eternal one

to conceal yourself

as the manifest force of nature

and to allow evil to have free reign

and to exist in this world ,

only to raise us high

and to test us to reveal ,

through your blowing

and changing winds ,

the traits of leadership

that you have given us,

and placed quietly within.

In your eternal will,

you wait patiently

to spring out

and fulfill . “ *                                      *Kabbalistic Prayer

From “Dreams for a Saturday Morning” by PWChaltas

The Book

The Book

He spoke from within his sadness and regret .Was it too late? His wisdom could not save himas his father’s Faith and Humility had .After all his father had known glory but also knew blood and death .His father had been humbled and suffered torments and regret earlier in his life .He had been betrayed and judged by men and women ,even friends and servants .He suffered greatly and clung to his faith to save himself from drowning in his own tears .His father’s plate was a constant battle sustained by faith ,repentance and humility .The son knew now of himself,
that he had been imperfectly born .He had lived his life in glory, building, with little suffering. He had judged many, and now late in life realized that he had been lead astray by ease and wealth , by so many different perfumed charms and whispers. Defeated and weakened by his own power he realizes those few first stray steps have lead him so far away, and that it is such a long journey back now, in light that has grown very dim . He speaks pearls of wisdom for willing ears :
“Remove from me vanity and lies. Give me neither poverty or riches
Feed me with food convenient for me lest I be full and say: ” Who is the Lord ” or lest I be poor and steal and take the name of the Lord in vain” ****
“A good name Is better than precious ointment ; And the day of death is better than the day of oneʼs birth . It is better to go to the house of mourning , than to go to the house of feasting :
for that is the end of all and the living will lay it to heart . Sorrow is better than laughter: for by sadness of the countenance the heart is made better . The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth” ***
***Ecclesiates 7 2/4 ****Proverbs 30 8/9