Thursday, August 5, 2021
Thursday, August 5, 2021
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Erev Tisha B’Av

Seymour Mayne

Composed in the 1970s in Jerusalem

I note him.

He rarely notices me.

He sits there eating

under the descending side

of noon or towards

that hour Jerusalem’s stone

glows into exaggerated

stillness of Judean landflesh.

 

You are my older self

bending over nourishment

and crushed beans.

The wind and cypresses

press me into their shawl.

Another eye almost still

and shining like a monolith

holds its own on the brow.

 

Tomorrow Herod’s stones

that hold the walls

will fall again and break

in prayer and scroll.

Not even water

should defy this fast.

Temple and rubble are one.

The new gathering places

will stand and endure now

before the interface’s billions.

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