Hildegard Caringi

I Never Knew Her Dreams

It was midnight,
and just a few days before my return home
to America.

My mother and I were still up.
A candle burning on the table next to us,
we had been talking about the old days.
It felt good to relax
and snuggle up to her,
as I did when I was a little girl,
looking for affection.

When I asked her what her dreams were,
she laughed and seemed to refer to her modest rooms,
“I have all this, what else could I wish for?”

“What about as a little girl,” I asked.
“Or as a young woman?
Didn’t you have any special dreams then?”

“Oh, we all dream at one time or another.
I have you children.
That’s enough,”
she said.

“But your personal dreams…
if only for a moment…
your very own special dreams…
what happened to them?”
I kept insisting.

The candlelight danced in her eyes
when she answered,
“It’s more
than I could’ve ever imagined,”
she smiled,
looking at me tenderly.
 

---

On This Day Of Graduation

For Elaine

Keep on reaching for your star.
Have confidence - it won’t be too far.
You know the golden book of rules:
It takes hard work to build a foundation,

 and along with that determination,
demanding the finest tools
 in each situation.  
No matter when your dream might come true,
setting your soul on fire for you,
hold on to your precious plan
and always do the best you can.
Since childhood you’ve left your mark behind,

unforgettable in everyone’s mind.  
Never give up, no matter what lies ahead.
You’ll find the right way.
Apply the power of knowledge,
for education will guide you every day.  
Envy and worry
is not for you.

Let the blessed light of glory
in its beauty shine through
and life will broaden your view.  
Approach every day with a smile on your face,
and try adjusting your hurried pace,
as if entering a holy place.  
Be happy for each opportunity it brings
and be grateful for all the little things.
 
Keep love in your heart,
and you’ll be part
of your star
 and it’s beauty.
Knowing who you are,
and reaching your star
is your sworn duty.

Come to it expectantly.
 Have courage and be set free.
Soon you’ll build on the sunny side
of the street.
Go ahead and dare.
Build your temple, a great source of light,
with visions of camaraderie
in utter harmony and unrestricted solidarity.

You’ll feel privileged to share
this hard-earned site
of individuality,
creating a rare gem, quietly pleasing,
its magic never ceasing.  
Build your temple with all your skill,
or better still,
lay each rock, each block,
each single stone - as previously shown
with trained perfection,
and masterful direction,
with honor, purity, and the greatest of care.
You’ll make it happen with God in your prayer.  
When successful, talk gently.
Exercise patience and simplicity.
Employ kindness, dignity and morality,
never forgetting yesterday,
as you’re traveling the gold-paved way.
But when at first you don’t succeed,
don’t be bitter. There may be still a need
for you to grow.

However, we all know
 it may not at all be so.
Although the pulse of your song may seem a bit too strong,
it may be off, or the timing may simply be wrong 
for the tune of the lovely nightingale.
This too will pass. You did not fail!
Find the confidence to fight,
gather all your inner might
to prepare again,
to be judged once more by man.
When one door closes,
another door will open somewhere.
So please, don’t you despair!
And now my dear,
may your journey be clear
and your load be light,
and may you naturally be satisfied
with a joy in your heart that won’t let go.
May the candles clarify and brightly glow.
Walk humbly but tall, and be the best you can be.
Stay focused and you’ll earn your degree.
And as you have so much to give,
completely fulfilled and deeply thrilled
you will begin to live.

Always remember you’re not alone.
We, your friends
applaud all your accomplishments -
big or small,
as if they were our own,
celebrating them all.
As you can see, you’re of supreme worth
to so many of us here on this earth.


Love is overshadowing any uncertainty
that might lay ahead in life,
never having to worry about the possibility of loneliness.
Love is like a hungry soil,
waiting to grow faith and happiness.
I know there’s a great deal more for me to tell
on this joyous occasion,
but at this point, I’d just like to wish you well
and express my sincerest congratulation
for your outstanding graduation,
but mostly for not ending
your precious education.
I love you.

---

Too Quiet

I can hear the soldiers talking…
pacing up and down in front of the door.
While it’s barely closed
it lets in the smoke from their cigarettes.
Someone shouts something in Russian.
And since none of us know what they’re saying
the tension in the bunker rises.
More Russian...
Nobody attempts to move.
I don’t like these men.
They laugh when they’re about to hurt someone.
 
Suddenly it’s quiet outside….
It’s still quiet…much too quiet…
I wonder what’s going on?
Maybe they left,
having other matters to attend to.
No one dares to move a muscle
or look at anyone…
They just wait…
It’s the silence that frightens me now.
Perhaps one of us should look outside.
I guess not.
Everyone stays where they are…
quietly waiting…
 
The thought of moving on
and having to cross another bridge,
adds to my anxiety.
Bridges are so high above the ground
and I am so small.
I can’t breathe
when I think about it.
Gasping for air, I reach for Mother’s hand
in the semi-darkness.
She looks pale as she holds me,
but manages a smile.
 
Somehow I cope and doze off,
and dream of my grandfather’s ferocious geese
on the farm.
The gander is exceptionally vicious,
As in the past, he chases me,
ready to bite.

---

Too Weak For Prayers

Total madness begins…
anti-Jewish propaganda.
Hatred spreads like a firestorm.
Yellow Star of David.
Crystal Night!
Footsteps approaching doors.
The sound of boots and men’s loud voices.
Stunned silence,
the heartbeat quickens.
Hiding in the dark.
Prayers.

Looking for safety
in temporary make-shift shelters,
holding hands.
Machineguns.
Panic.
Arrest and surrender.
Sporadic outrage.
Yanked into trucks.
Locking tailgates.
Onlookers crowding in.
Prayers.

Round-up of more families…
marching out of buildings.
No time to dress fully.
Tears flowing…devastation.
Herding into cattle cars.
Squashed together
with no air to breathe..
Rifles fired.
Concentration camps!
Orders through loudspeakers.
Separations.
Cramped into narrow cots.
Uncertainty.
Prayers.

Hunger and pain.
Torture and agony….
Desperate cries.
Family members dragged away.
Disappeared…vanished…gone forever.
Extermination!
Too weak for prayers
 

---

Lovely Flowers

He first saw her in the early spring,
a light rain in the air.
Quietly standing there,
she trembled in the misty atmosphere.
 
Lifting her smiling face,
was a lovely creature…
revealing the new season’s grace,
a work of art,
the very spirit of a spring flower,
pure and fair,
towering there,
like a lily,
caressed by the sunlight,
breaking through the clouds.
She stood tall and straight, and bright,
a breath of fresh spring air,
the wind softly playing in her hair.
And his heart stopped.
 
As their eyes briefly met,
his heart almost leapt out of his chest.
If it had been in his power,
he would have picked the lovely flower,
taken her home…sheltering her from the rain,
and placed her in his most precious vase
appreciating her, loving her
every day of his life.
 
But the opportunity never arose.
The lovely flower was growing
in the garden next door,
and belonged to his neighbor. 
He soon noticed that the neighbor
looked after the flower,
celebrating her springtime.
 
Realizing,
that the flower was beyond reach
and he had no right exchanging smiles with her,
he brought home his own flower,
a radiant summer bloom,
a colorful surprise.
Her fragrance,
as sweet as a rose,
and just the right dose,
filled his house.
 
There she remained …in all her splendor
deeply rooted in his most precious vase.
He looked at her,
and her laughter rang out,
birdsongs filling the air.
 
Appreciating her touch,
her appearance, her perfume,
he admired the lovely sight.
Tenderly, he took care of her,
loving her
every day of his life,
counting his blessings.
 
And after the rising and setting of the sun,
she overflowed with beauty,
surrendering her soul to him.
Taking pleasure in caring and sharing,
and blissful days at home,
he had found a bit of Heaven
on earth.
 
Yet, every once in a while
he still glanced at the lovely tall flower next door…
from a distance…of course.
Still lovely and tall,
but…
perhaps not quite as straight…
not quite as fair…
definitely not as radiant as his lovely rose.
And his heart stayed calm
when he saw her now…
 
One day, he noticed his neighbor,
 with sympathetic, admiring eyes,
longingly smiling at his precious flower…
and his heart stopped…
 
Feeling tired…and strangely lonely…
darkness surrounding him…

---

Motherhood

To Suzanne and Raquel

Raquel was born,
and Suzanne kissed her baby’s head,
when the doctor brought that tiny girl to her bed.
 
She held her daughter in a loving embrace
and studied with wonder her new-born face.
 
Caressing her baby so close to her heart,
Raquel felt warm and secure from the start.
 
"What little hands! Each finger dainty and sweet!
It's unreal! - How perfect are your hands and feet!
 
Oh dear little baby, my heart calls out to you,
but I don't quite know yet what to do.
Motherhood is still so new.”
 
But babies are not asking very much,
just a soothing voice, a loving heart,
and a gentle touch.
That's all babies ever want.
Of a little tenderness they're very fond,
and a mother's smile
every once in a while.
 
And then she felt the baby's touch
against her breast.
"I promise you, I'll do my best.
What a blessing you are,
what an absolute delight.
Sleep peacefully for the rest of the night.”
 
Very soon Suzanne understood…
what she felt was…
motherhood!

---

Out of the Darkness

Out of the darkness he came,
without a name.
Though no one was to blame,
she would never be quite the same

Chances of seeing him again
remain slim:
and yet,
her memory, never free of him,
plays that magical moment
that she can’t forget
over and over in her head.
Each time without regret:

He stands six foot four,
and has just come to shore;
tall, young and strong,
cheerfully whistling an upbeat song.

Troubles and sorrows he seems to have none.
Unrestrained he takes part in the fun,
laughing and singing with everyone.
With bated breath she watches him from afar
at the other end of the bar.

Directly she feels the worship of his eyes,
like burning stars from far away skies.
Her face feels hot, and it glows.
And she’s terrified that he knows.

An enormous thunder fills both of her ears,
resembling a galloping herd of steers,
when he, unaccustomed to fear,
suddenly stands very near.
Her heart leaps into her throat,
hitting an unexpected note.

When she tries to speak
her desire is stirred; her knees grow weak.

Boldly, he looks deep into her eyes,
moving mountains, stirring skies -
daring – dashing,
her face flashing.

He casts a spell,
and handles it well,
exchanging no words in reality,
no words of fiction with fancy diction,
no explanation of his strategy,
not even sweet talk of trust.
No reasoning is being discussed.
It acquires an exceptional art,
applying the language of the heart.

He simply expands his usual charm,
and takes her silently by the arm.
And when, along the river,
his touch makes her quiver.

They lie in deep embrace,
her smile lighting up his sun-tanned face.

Their lips so near,
and with joy, and fear
they cling to a kiss,
long remaining in their bliss.
With intense desire
she meets his fire.
They deeply feel each other’s love
as the moon watches discretely from above.

Her body warm with passion
lets her forget Sunday’s confession.
Earth is heaven at last.
And they hear the angels sing.
Did they give too much, too fast -
due to the magic of spring?

Even old mother earth
is responding in wholesome rebirth,
for winter has finally past,
and spring has come at last!

It always happens on a moonlit night,
in the softest silver light,
that all of nature sings with one voice,
serenading the world in sweet rejoice,
as two strangers, who had little to say
see the breaking of the day
in a new
and glorious way.

---

I Am Borzoi

Iam Borzoi,
and I celebrate the birth and existence
of my giant, supremely graceful breed,
originally called the Russian Wolfhound.
 
Tall, lean, and elegant,
quite aristocratic looking,
I am beauty in motion.
Though stretching my legs ever once in a while
won’t do at all for me.
I need to run through the woods
to keep my muscles in good shape.
But, you will probably not see me in action,
unless you happen to be around
when I exercise,
 
Now, don’t be mistaken,
in the past, we could not be purchased
by just any mortal.
We were the privilege of
aristocracy and nobility,
exclusively.
 
Back in the days of the Czar,
relying on our speed and agility,
we were trained to hunt in packs,
mainly wolves, of course,
besides other small animals
of the Czar’s liking.
 
They called it a sport,
but the truth is,
hunting is killing,
though my kind never took part
in the actual deed.
The Czar’s men did that,
using their spears and sabers,
with great enthusiasm,
The Borzois merely caught the prey.
 
To this day,
I, a Borzoi, display a rather sweet temperament,
compared to other breeds,
who often exhibit a boisterous demeanor.
Just treat me right,
and provide me with a place where I can run.
 
Don’t speak to me harshly,
show  patience,
and give me respect,
and I’ll be a gentle and devoted companion.
 
Recognizing the importance of soft bedding,
will go a long way with me.
You’ll find out.
In a pinch, a plush couch will do.
 
I am very sensitive and require attention,
and I can get depressed
should you leave me alone
for an extended period of time.
 
I am quiet and well behaved,
you will hardly hear me bark,
but in return
I like my coat brushed often
as well as my teeth,
that is if you don’t want to see me
toothless
before my time.
 
As much as I like affection,
here is a warning to strangers:
Do stay away!

---

Armies of Angels

Armies of angels
in radiant white
with the wind in their wings
moving swiftly…
supernaturally…
arriving
from the Silent Planet,
bestowing peace
and overwhelming goodness
and strength
for
healing.
Breathing
their fragrance
we nourish
our hunger
for faith and devotion.