Crossroad

A poem by my father, Zeev Kachel, 1990
At a crossroad here I standI kick the past, I kick it, andI find my lodging somewhere nearI find that I am not quite here          I am not here, I am not there                    Not awake, not asleep, unable to bearAnd you, a dove, will fly awayWill not return come spring dayThe blessed moments don’t returnI’ve ruined everything, my life I spurnThe hours pass, here comes the nightThe day is gone, are you alright?I’m not alive, I am not deadI kick the past, and on I tread.

This is my mixed media painting, The Door to My Childhood.
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