Cleaning Rice
On the balcony of my courtyard I sit
Cleaning rice, picking out the tiny black pebbles.
On the wings of a warm breeze
The music of my neighbor rises to my ear.
His musical arrangements, like sweet scent,
Intangibly sink into my being.
The music stops.
He leaves,the courtyard gate closes behind him.
“Allahu Aqbar,” chants the muezzin in the mosque on the Mount.
It is noon.
Loudspeakers throughout the walled City
Transmit his call.
And I sit, in my high-walled courtyard,
Cleaning the rice.
This poem was first published in H2E The Creative Writing Magazine, January 2002, and reprinted in Woman Prayers ed. Mary Ford-Grabowsky, (Harper-Collins) 2003
To hear Ruth reading this poem Click here: Cleaning Rice