Tisha B’Av

I walk

through rubble

turning towards

the burning earth:

how is the state of your heart

in this breath

I ask of my kin: oak,

white pine, maple,

witch hazel -  all those

who accompany

my body faithfully

upholding my home

through storm and fog.

How is the state of

your understory

I ask, afraid to know,

frightened for

my vulnerable

granddaughter

born into smoke

 

May this poem

today change my life

enter unencumbered

the small house of

my lonely grief,

depart as blessed

memories of all

the lost: butterfly, lightening

bug, tree frog, elephant -

May we the survivors

be counted as mourners of Zion,

and of Yoshveh Tevel, all who dwell

on this earth and might still

act