by Carol Reiman
from www.thinkcds.org/category/policy/ |
Borne
on the water
that etches
the rock
(of tablets
and of temples),
the breath of life
glistens
as it falls
down
and down
and
down
the wall,
pooling below, in blue
green deep,
a balm for bathers,
to wash away
the ash of grief and tired day;
turning on,
the waters pass slowly here,
clotted
by the blood of battle,
iron arms lapped
in reeds--
land of dust and stone
sealed off to some--
left in pieces,
separated parts.
Eicha!
From the voices
of those gathered,
tuned to the shofar,
condensing
breath
of all with open ear and heart,
a mist of spray
forms,
rippling out,
spiraling,
to rise,
amidst the mix,
until
the
water
once again
glistens
with its light;
borne upon
its journey,
making
its way
down
the
wall.
Afloat at her Boston
harbor campus, Carol Reiman is shored up by friends in various faith
communities and grounded by her cat.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.