by Sheina Medwed
If I could take your words
and form them
into something I could hold
something solid
and golden
like the stone-faced houses
of this city
If I could carry your voices
with me
as I walk these holy streets
a treasure in my purse
a secret source of strength
that generates and heals
like the hot and dusty rays
of God's healing sun
And if I tell you
that in this city
of gold and holiness
of jasmine and honeysuckle
of pomegranate and rose
my neshamah sings
my neshamah dances
my neshamah loves
my neshamah waits
for the day
when the distance between us
will be only one of flesh
when for your first time
standing
on this ancient land
the words of our fathers
and the voices of our mothers
will reveal their secret treasures
and you will take them
and form them
into something held forever
more solid
and more golden
than the stone-faced houses
of this city