Sophie A. Katz, Writer

I enjoyed thirty. But now thirty is done, so – On to thirty-one! S.A.K.

I say – the moon is a diamond. She needs external light to shine, as gemstones do, But we do not judge her for it. We treat her as a goddess, invoke her name in poetry, and know that she is always there – one steady hand on the ocean, sculpting our months, even when we cannot see her in that deep sapphire sky. S.A.K.

It’s an old story – let’s tell it again, About how kindness brings you fortune, And how youth can come with wisdom, And how the world is full of wonders, And how hardship ends, eventually, And how love can be yours, if you search for it, And how good we are at finding patterns, And creating miracles, And fostering hope, And transcending time through stories. S.A.K.

I find no beauty in my bleeding. Some may call this un-feminist – But it’s just a thing some bodies do, Like double-jointedness, or snoring. It’s a sign that I am neither young nor old, I guess, and that a system’s working properly, whether I use it or not. It’s no more beautiful than peeing. I didn’t do it, and now I do, and someday I will no longer, and some women never do. You can write poems about it. But you can write a poem about anything. That doesn’t make it more beautiful, or less, than anything. S.A.K.

I saw the sun rise twice, First over the airport in Tel Aviv, And second on our way across the ocean, As though it too had gone back to sleep And woken in the darkness of the in-between – Between travel and home, Between ancient and now, Between my people far and close… How good to know that I will find you everywhere. S.A.K.

Apple of my eye, though life gives others lemons, we shall make cider. S.A.K.

What was left behind? Only footprints in the earth, Only temporary marks that changed the path of worms and ants For days to come. What was left behind? The sources of a hundred lessons, The questions that inspired a thousand answers, actions, choices I still live with. What was left behind? The color of their eyes, The quirk of his smile when he made light of my concerns, The full impact of her silence. What was left behind? Only what I can no longer carry, Only what it turns out I had grown beyond needing, anymore, When it was time to say goodbye. S.A.K.

I am grateful to those who carried the torch forward – Who loved their path to the point of burning, Though it seemed strange or impractical, Unnecessary or irrational. I am grateful to those who carried the torch forward – Though conformist winds would have blown it out, Though other lights arose over time, And tried to supersede it. I am grateful to those who carried our torch forward, So that I, today, may choose what flame to hold, May choose which lights will guide my life, My community, my way. S.A.K.

Let me make you a melody. Let me strum it on the strings of my soul, Let my breath be the woodwinds, my lungs the brass; Let the pounding of my heart provide the percussion – A steady beat, inspired by the syllables, My Love. S.A.K.

You will meet amazing people You will see amazing things You will make surprising choices And you’ll see what good they bring You’ll explore the world around you You will learn what has been known You will follow those before you And you’ll make the path your own You will bring a new perspective And you’ll take in others’, too I promise – you will matter As you walk this world anew S.A.K.

My bedroom walls were Sunshine Day, And it fit my personality – Explosive, celestial – To declare my love for yellow But now I’ve flown across the color wheel, With Royal, Navy, Sapphire, Azure – Above the horizon, and below the surface of the sea – I find my peace S.A.K.