27 Elul: Atonement

by Alan Sugar

The rain comes down.  I turn away.
I do not bless the end of day.
And when the light comes back to me,
I do not thank the world I see.

These are the gifts that I forget.
Without remorse.  Without regret.

The leaves now fall, and all is still.
Will these forgive? Oh yes, they will.

Despite my pain and my despair,
they will return.  They will be there.

Through day and night, in sun and showers,
the earth sustains.  And it is ours.

Flowers wait beneath the snow.
And in the dark, the stars still glow.

The day begins and goes away,
for those who sin and those who pray.
For thieves and schemers who steal and lie.
For fools and dreamers such as I.

The rain that falls-- from this I drink.
At end of day, I nod and blink.
And when I wake-- afraid, alone,
the world I see becomes my own.

The leaves now fall.  I call to each.
The trees are bare.  But, oh, they reach.

I see it all, both small and great.
And all that fades, I recreate.

Bring me the sun, so I may sing-- 
far from my tears that blind and sting.

A breeze that sighs.  A soft caress.
A hand to hold.  A soul to bless.

​

Alan Sugar. Now retired from a career in Special Education, Alan works as a writing tutor at Perimeter College of Georgia State University. His professional background, working with special needs children, has influenced his work. Alan finds much comfort in writing his poems. They allow him to express a need for balance, wholeness, and self. His work has appeared in the Atlanta Review, The Jewish Literary Journal, The Lyric, The Ekphrastic Review, The Awakenings Review, RFD, and Autism Parenting Magazine.