Detail #2
Bottom Right

A water stone was under the ark as it came to rest after the flood.
Jacob used a water stone as a pillow while dreaming of other waters.
The life filled stone rested below the sacrifice stopped.
It was once hit. It has appeared and been present
at moments grave and transforming.
Men and women unified by identity
not time or distant place or race
from all continents all times
march together.

After forty years in the desert
and all the future years
the Jewish people entered their land.
Some carried burdens, heavy as boulders on their backs.
A Juddenstern oil lamp hanging from a barbed wire wrapped rock
was one family’s memory of light.

Memorial stones and tracks of Treblinka
in the weave of an overcoat,
a woman carries a pyramid, a man his shofar
babies, children, men and women, the elderly: the treasure.
One wears a laurel wreath, some in disbelief,
Medieval shame, Renaissance finery,
assimilation severed from other nations
they cross the Jordan.

Out of a boxcar came a future full of surprising strength
running to fulfill identity in the land.
A lady runs holding a bouquet of hardware
and a man carries his violin.
Trope and vowels without their Hebrew words,
from Genesis 1:9: “God said, “Let the waters be collected”
hover over the people as they near the flow.
DNA and hope, a heffer bright red
and books they’d read
professions learned, honors earned
the sweep of history, the peoples’ mystery
things the drone near the Jordan cannot see.


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