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| (C) Liorah Chanah Elishaba Tsabrah my family tree Lori Ann Taylor-Collins-Faulkner-Grunwald |
| the last words of grandfather Collins, a tzadik nistar, to me before he died were: it will be alright ... I have fixed it for you ... mesirut nefesh , justice justice ... |
| cousin, brother and I (our mothers sisters and our fathers brothers) we lived in the sticks and down the country road, we rode riding dark shadows to there where the abandoned two-story house stood set aside, hauntingly broken, holy with shattered windows scattered about and doors off their hinges yet uncurling within it, some essential core like the old tattered furniture, waltzed to some ancient tune stringing longingly from the center room penetrating the color of the thin vacated space inhabiting the place through a weathered piano with misfit keys like dusty knots, beckoning upon some mystic sound transmitting a story that creaked to life eerily when I played truly, truly, truly it happened in those days of sharing ghoulish stories, giddy, fearlessly full of fear laughing like dybbuks with a secret playing Dark Shadows trying on roles whispering in code from beyond the matrix, and into our world the world as we made it cousin and brother ... or were they really Barnabas Collins, the vampire and Quentin, the werewolf as I was really AngeliQue, the doppelganger an exQuisite witch like we were really Collins too, and here in this place was our Collinwood, a world set aside and whispering of more like grandfather, our mothers' father a mysterious man with a secret escaping, into my ears once hidden between his words something setting me free, free! free! free! so time after time, day after day off to our haunting, we would fly on our bikes to that broken old house and once, it happened there cousin brought forth a forbidden booty two cigarettes from his mother's purse for us, a first smoke but I wanted none, not really smoking meant nothing special to me, a strange child so I, I AngeliQue played on, strumming clumsily some ancient tune to the rhythm of unseen smokerings drifting through the air beyond the angels filling my nostrils, filling my soul, uncoiling like a cat in repose in my heart, and I spoke it I would not tattle, this daring plan was okay by me yet cousin and brother thought to be safe to be sure, sure of me though I had never been a squealer before this was a serious, serious matter so, hounded and hounded until I agreed I took one puff insurance, security - for whom? okay, okay, I thought let's get past this thing, this matter I want to play, more so I took one puff from the lit cigarette and off to play more, I went, flying upon those sacred misfit keys creaking out some beautiful beautiful music to me to the end as smoke unfurled from the old bathroom before a shattered mirror to the end playing Dark Shadows Barnabas Collins, Quentin and I, I AngeliQue and then we returned home playing mysteries for the day I put my bicycle away and went to my room hibernating in my solitary way while cousin and brother too, put their bicycles away but, before going inside they went to the water hose by the garage and drank and spit and drank and spit and drank and spit water and then they went inside into the house, into the bathroom and gargled with Listerine mouthwash immediately my parents suspected foul play and cousin and brother were summoned to explain such odd behavior they broke, sobbing, the story inside out what hafoch really means from my room, I could hear childhood repentence made of muffled sounds and childrens' pleas then the door of my room burst open and my father ordered me out what? I inquired of my father, what is this for? I see - cousin and brother had squealed on me admitting it, I had smoked one puff too I cannot tell a lie nor can I, I AngeliQue so we all got a whooping that day Barnabas Collins, Quentin and I, I AngeliQue |
| ... and to my children, grandchildren and descendents forevermore, I say it will be alright, I have fixed it for you |
| express in truth, whatever the soul reveals, for with each spark of truth, torches of light assemble, illuminating the whole world, and from such fragments of inner truth will the Great Truth emerge ... Rav Kook, Lights Of Holiness 1:168 |
| at the last minute, however, a soul from the inner, essentially holy power of darkness is substituted for the impure soul and enters the newborn child ... Gali Razaya |
| celtic-druid sigil representing the sacred feminine force |
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| two of a family Sanhedrin 111a |
| ring of fire & Amy Yang Photography |