if every Jew
is a letter
and
the Jewish People
is a whole scroll
and we
like
Law and Letters
are
cleaved from fire
and
given by fire
what of the Lord of Hosts
who sat with people as the sunken?
who cried?
and mourned?
let us shape the fire of our bruised backs into the peaceful streams of clearing throats
searching and awaking to human bodies
and perhaps telling new stories
alive and weeping
beyond the spectre of generational fiery rhyme and the burning circle
of metaphor
