Sunday Showcase No. 26 – Daniel Revach Daniel Revach is...Read More
We are thrilled to present poet Ruty Shehter, our Sunday Showcase this week, and feature her poem, “Essay on Present Form.” You’re going to feel things, including a strong urge to take a dip in the ocean.
About the poet: Elizabeth Ruty Shehter is an Israeli-American poet born to Russian immigrant parents and endlessly fascinated by language.
Her poetry plays with sound and diction while exploring various personal themes. She loves finding new ways to discover how language enables intuitive, powerful expression and transformation.
When she is not writing poems, she is studying future global rain patterns under climate change in an Earth and Planetary Sciences Masters program at the Weizmann Institute.
Her writing and research are heavily informed by her love for the outdoors as well as changing storylines on how communities and their physical surroundings are connected and interdependent.
She currently lives in Tel Aviv, Israel.
Alongside the magazine, Sunday Showcase provides additional opportunities for emerging artists and writers to share their work and gain exposure. There are no themes or deadlines, simply email us your best work for a chance to get featured across all of our channels. We accept writing of any genre and visual art of all mediums.
Send submissions to firstname.lastname@example.org. Be sure to include:
By Ruty Shehter
I go to you every morning
toward your engulfing edges,
your milk foam lips, that salted smolder
smile. It is the closest I get to sea
you once a day, anew smack
in the middle of the strait, I stare
straight into your wide-eyes making wavelets
and ringlets lovelied by the distance.
Only becoming as they appear, here:
strong, though sparing me some
of the tears and brine-soaked feet
by the time they reach shore.
There is no surrogate to carry
me in the world or through
it but this water is a lifeline, an umbilical
cord to hold; some days there is nothing
else to bother with then go to its bosom.
There is nowhere else to try and be.
I struggle with the word presence, I imagine
being present is a gift not found
by searching in the dictionary, I imagine
It would be like being birthed, before
there is nothing. Before night’s swindling
arms, before noon’s strung out heart & the
neurotic neurons nervously going about
their business—swirling little swivels
of all there is to be alive.
For, I know it is real. It exists
spread out on the dining room table, look
there, dice this, dole out that, don’t doubt
in the same way I exist, in the same way
I, now, must go to that nook
on the ocean bedside
lamppost myself tall, breathe still
into my limbs—a small and beautiful
light flickering into all the corners of you.