no sunlight, no healing


out here in the promised land

10 helpless clay-baked goloms are bathed

in thick, clean Dead Sea mud,

while Nazarath weddings blast saxophones and accordions just up the road,

and the passion of a hundred Tzfat hora dancers

toast with the other tribes

all the while beckoning to Haifa salt Mediterranean scholars

hustling Haggadahs on shakedown Ramalah Rumla Reza Street

out here in the promised land

while holy Jerusalem nods to this music or to the maternal knowing,

Mt. Bental’s brilliant sparks of light effervesce the night sky,

opalescing enlightened orange and date trees,

while Be’er Sheva’s golden desert doors

and Tel Aviv’s hip hoppers down on Contemporary Road

harvest and garland yelloworange buttercups and purple pansies

waving the bouquets up and back down these consecrated roads,

where yarmulked children hopscotch way past midnight

innocent in pigtails and peyus

their paisley sneakers swinging,

where bees become birds

become cherry trees

become exquisite, tender offerings

sharing salutary bonds etched in stone:

“all this is bestowed upon my people…

the tears and the laughter of thousands of years

endless sunlight to forever heal

malachite and shekels

oil and olives

dates dipped in tahini

honey dripping from pregnant rosebuds

and chipped austere cups brimming with cool sweet water”

6/23/2018