About The Author and Artist

Beth "Batyah" Ginzberg is the owner, CEO and founder of "Ginzberg Creative Arts and Writing, Inc." She is a descendant of the Davidic Line of the Mashiach and is an Israelite Hebrew Priestess. Her father was a Levi Hebrew Priest. Ginzberg is an information scientist and an artist and writer. She writes her poetry in honor and memory of her father Emanuel Ginsburg and in honor of and love for her mother Jarie Vavra Granton.


Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Shalom means Peace, Hello, and Good Bye

Thinking back, 3 years, 4, 5, 20, 5775 years ago.
Singing, dancing, rattling tambourines, stepping high, hungering: she showed me a belonging.
Community, eating together, loving-kindness--not knowing anyone.
Wounds curable, warmth of lightness, remembering back--moving forward.
Family intertwining, place, generation, sibling rivalry--Esau.
Jacob's trickery--she knows there's no hair on my neck--goat's hair purses instead.
No sackcloth, clothe the naked, gifts of new clothes.
Powerful sermons, teachings, listening, giving her mitzvot to complete.
Receiving is a gift.
Sweet on Paris lotions--lived on the 111th floor of the Eiffel Tower for one night.
Not coughing, no cigarettes, cigarettes is a French word, not French.
Collecting anti-cavity tubes of toothpaste, getting the very last drop, always another tube from somewhere.
Oil wells never running dry, streams always having water, not needing to count pennies.
Counted pennies instead of Easter eggs, now eating cholesterol-free eggs, no chocolate bunnies.
Rabbits, running, jumping, they are non-kosher animals, not cute anymore. Holding same disdain: squirrels, cats, dogs, horses. All American--but not edible.
Roots of Trees of Life growing deeper everyday. Spanning out like streets on a map.
Going places without airplanes, without buses, without trains: laptop taking me everywhere.
The Kohayne said to me: "All you'll ever need is the Internet." He was right.
Sitting down again to drink and eat in a house of feasting.
Before and after dinner blessings--hearty hardy laughs, and then eating again.
No boar's heads on my plates, but feel just like King Henry VIII.
Sitting in a tent meeting with elders, respecting wisdom from years.
Knowing wisdom is a feminine noun--having knowledge to sustain me.
Not upset anymore, pillow is soft, work is fun.
Massaging own neck, only sore, not strained.
She deserves a masseuse, and she has one.
I deserve her and she has me.
December is not December anymore, now it is Kislev.
Christmas is spent with them, not us.
Party, party, party, but with an open Torah--no typos.
I am my own spokesman.
Knowing the value of silence.
Peace.
Shalom.

 

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