Page 41 - Kol Bogrei Habonim - January 19

Ezra Ben Meir

Futures “The Burnt House” Jerusalem

Walking the streets of London A whitened bone
sees her hundreds, thousands leans on the balustrade of history
thronging her pavements with the Roman spear nearby.
slightly jostling, or not
as they walk, one North Jars of ceramic, blackened by the fire
the other South that tore the Temple walls
or one East, the other West and destroyed the hegemony of a people.
purposefully
with nothing to disturb A spiral disperses through the history books.
except perhaps a handbag or briefcase Pages leaf
held firmly in a hand, scarlet and black thrust their hands forward
or a purchased clothing item.
mists shroud the missing stones
Here, in Israel powdery dusts cover footsteps long silent.
the throngs are not as strong
London's millions outnumbering We remain awhile
all of Israel's fewer peer through the beams of time.
spread among villages, towns and cities.
Ghosts slip off our clothes
But as we climb the stairs
while London's wheels spin to daylight
along tarred and stoned streets
Israel has its wheels also on its pavements
carrying infants, not yet able to toddle
or older ones' legs circling on tricycles' pedals
or even youths or adults
violating Israel's laws
concerning wheeled vehicles, many with
electrical mechanisms weaving between the
walking others.

I recently returned from the local post-office
the two women before me
each with dresses bulging forwards
with temporarily hidden loads carried Entrance to “The Burnt House”
until their birthing dates

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