Wednesday, November 4, 2015

One Quarter Jewish

one quarter Jewish
    through the fathers of time
    I touch my deep, purple heart

I never knew myself before we met in the ancient ruins
walking across mosaics, green fertile synagogue of memory
how could a child understand

no, I had to be old, the sands running out
there, the vision, the pool under shadowed branches
there, the eagle and the deer together

no sanctuary, no perfect land
the planet of beauty and cruelty
we try and try

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