Love and faith together form untruths
To twist and curl our heart about.
Misshaping us.
Making us grotesque.
Bound or burning on high pyres.
Convinced of what can never be
We are on one knee for one and both for the other.
Could we stand straighter? Taller? Off our knees
What postures would be summoned by a truth?
Silence
There never was reason
To write down half a line or half a thought
Or half a heart
As all already know or easily guess
All there is of pain
Of loss of sorrow
And even something of the touch of love
There is at best only the wind
Who seeks knowledge
It is long said
Seeks sorrow
My Niece
My niece, for long no longer she
Who played those summers in our garden
On the hill above the pond
Suffers in another city on another sea.
In another time of deeper faith and fervent prayer
The Prophet Hanina Ben Dosa
Could cure by praying from a distance
And if he did not stumble on a word
The pain would ease
The demon flee
Shall I pray now from this distance?
Would I stumble on a word?
May I go to the concert tonight?
Without feeling cold hearted tomorrow
