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.
Low Level Sadness, the Mourning Heart’s Guest
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.
I Never Knew: A Rabbi’s Poem about Mourning
A spoken word poem about a rabbi who realizes that after all the pastoral support for people whose loved ones have died, he never really knew what it felt like. Until his own father died.
Father Knows How. When Will I?
I always wondered how my Dad gained all that wisdom and I wondered if I would ever gain that depth of wisdom to be able to help my children when they needed to navigate their lives.
Rabbi In Crisis: How a Community Conspires to Care
Imagine having to make this decision: to fly home to hold your wife’s hand as she buries her mom on the West Coast or to remain on the East Coast to oversee the diagnosis and care of your mother who just had a major stroke. What would you do?