I sensed the strange windless drifts before a storm,
bereft of an answer to why my life was almost taken.
Her high woman's voice in the lull, a support of
supreme intensity, there was a darkening, a blue
bruise of a sky, an air of the past in the way the
dusk lifted. Because she was telling me
precisely how I had to survive, watching the
faces, leaning back against the years.
How I escaped is the question in the palm
that passes, asking for prayers for the injured.
I have sometimes been wise, she was wiser
still, speaking in ancient Aramaic, a song of
Journal With Sky
Sky, the road and trunks around the bend. A prison, a skylark.
Snow from yesterdays. Melts on a warm February day. Clouds
spell the names of those who have died. We were caught
in a whirlwind of loss, we were caught in a whirlwind of bliss, we
remembered Ezekiel, and the visions of stark warning.
A prison, a handful of sparrows flying while I drink a
cup of coffee at the cafe.
Who has forgotten? Who has spoken to a youth who
will save a life?
Judy Katz-Levine is an internationally-published poet whose work has appeared recently in Salamander, Ibbetson Street, Ygdrasil, Muddy River Poetry Review, Gravel, Miriam's Well, Kritya (India), and Allegro Poetry (UK). She was recently featured as the Sunday Poet on the blog of Doug Holder, entitled "Boston Small Press Poetry Scene Sunday Poet" on Easter Sunday of this year. Her books include Ocarina (Tarsier/Saru), When The Arms Of Our Dreams Embrace (Saru) and a recent still-in-print chapbook, When Performers Swim, The Dice Are Cast (Ahadada).