Tiferet Tifs

An Imperfect Body – by Thelma Zirkelbach

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My body is scarred. I was nineteen when my dress caught fire from a gas heater.  My brain said, "Don't run," but some primal instinct cried, "Run!"  As I raced from my room, flames...

Buoyed by a Bloom – by Anne Peek

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I was startled into hope by a sturdy bloom. In a murky week filled with fatigue, overwhelm and heartache, I bought a small pot of Gerbera daisies, bright raspberry red to cheer me up....

a mediocre white man — by Maryah Converse

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My friend says, “I’ve been practicing not giving way, claiming my space,” bumping shoulders with men in suits who stride down the middle of the sidewalk, secure in the respect due their masculinity, and...
Peace is all thee is

HaTikvah – by Aviva Derenowski

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The Israeli national hymn is called “Hatikvah” which translates as “The Hope.” It expresses the hope of the Jewish people to settle in Israel, and make it their home, after an exile of two...

The Body: A Barometer – by Jennifer Schaeffer

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The Body:  A Barometer It has been said that there are seven wonders of the world.  I think one was left off the list; the human body.  It is the greatest wonder of all.  When...

Living in the Almost – by Michael T. Young

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Hope is one half of the divided world. The other is apprehension. We are, in fact, haunted by the future as much as the past because we live in a distraction of expectation. Tantalus...

Faith – Michael Lyle

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Faith We all doubt. There are even times when we doubt it all. Everything. Other times, we doubt certain aspects, this understanding or that assumption. It matters little whether these aspects are orthodox doctrine or...
suns suns suns here they come

Stalking Anacrusis, Staying Upbeat – by Laurie Klein

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“Ana-what-sis,” you ask? Also translated “upbeat,” anacrusis signifies a pickup or lead-in: the notes and/or words preceding a song’s downbeat, like the “A” in “Amazing Grace,” or the initial, unstressed syllable(s) before a poem’s meter...
Sandell Morse

A Little Kiss – by Sandell Morse

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      The year was 1956. I was seventeen, a recent high school graduate, a dancer, a Rockette, my body my instrument, fiddle and bow, fingers on piano keys. Wolf whistles followed me as I walked...

Writing on HOPE: The Psalmist’s Prayer – by Mary F. Burns

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The Psalms have  always been a source of wisdom, comfort, depth and wonder for me personally, and for countless millions who have read, recited, heard and studied them through millennia of history. They timelessly...