Standing for Kaddish that first time is surreal. This poem captures the multitude of feelings as I stood in temple to recite Kaddish for my father Ken Kipnes.
Standing for Kaddish That First Time
I Guess. I am. Still. a Mourner. (Thirty days since Dad Died)
I am still a mourner. A poem about how my body - tears, trembling shoulders, welling up of emotions - remind me that I am still a mourner. Remembering my father, Ken Kipnes.
Seeking a Minyan in Disneyland (or) Kaddish In a Small World
Where do I find a minyan in Disneyland when I need to say Kaddish for my father? Outside It’s a Small World, after all! There, my students ensured I had a community for Kaddish.
Low Level Sadness, the Mourning Heart’s Guest
Low level sadness, right beneath the surface, is the constant guest in the heart and mind of the mourner. This poem reflects those feelings during shloshim for my father, Ken Kipnes, Papa.
Shloshim’s Theological Wanderings (or) Asking the Questions I’m Not Ready to Ask
A spoken word poem about the theological questions that arise after the death of a loved one. Written as I think about my father Ken Kipnes.
Video: What’s Mourning Like?
A video that explores what it feels like to be a mourner, featuring my poem - The Secret Life of a Mourner.
Video: What to Say to a Mourner
A video that explores what to say to a mourner. Of particular significance for me since my father Ken Kipnes died.
5 Extra Minutes During Shloshim (An Ode to Not Shaving)
A poem about my experience as a mourner following the ritual of not shaving during Shloshim.
The Secret Life of the Mourner
A poem about what a mourner experiences, hidden away from the rest of the world, sometimes hidden even from friends or community members
There’s No Poetry During Shloshim
A poem about the challenges of finding poetry (and meaning I can hold onto) during shloshim for my father
The Day After Shiva: Excruciatingly Difficult
A poem about that first day after shiva, when a mourner walks into a room of people for the first time. About my experience mourning Papa (my father Ken Kipnes).
‘Tis an Apt Metaphor for a Mourner
A poem written on a Jetblue flight carrying me home from my father's funeral. Flying as a metaphor...
Facing Shiva: I Don’t Like Being that One
Spoken word poetry about a rabbi who now has to be the one who sits shiva and let's other take care of him.
Seeing Daddy in the Mirror
“Reality of a Death” Mantra
A mantra that I repeated again and again when I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that my father had in fact died.