| Story Of A Line (C) Liorah Chanah Elishaba Tsabrah |
| a thin line writhed with reverberation, yet straight, charcoal unfolding its story so long ago, in the beginning it told, letters unknown a doodle I presumed, but truly I knew, even then like a sofer, fit to tell the story, I wrote, a scroll of that becoming known a journey of edges with pages upon pages, with holes ripped as I worked diligently, fingers gripping and telling, the line falling through because, just because, it was true to do another page and again, another page added to the story the only word a line, the whole story of a line jagged, pressed hard, the point broke, shattering the tip of the tool charged to tell the story, the whole story of a line, grey-black reddish crayons adding to some places with the other hand, colors telling truth sometimes it wound around lightly, in inner places wandering in one and more, corners and other spaces, fallen fallen over the edge lifted, drifted, hovering over and hiding under the page of writing, the tool in my hand, time for decision - was it the end? time to stop with this doodle? the tool paused, lifted and set down upon the paper, another page time after time, and always faithful to the truth to the the story of a line, the line as I saw it, from somewhere beyond yet within the boundaries, beyond the boundaries to the end, coming in from beyond the limit of my mind so many pages, one after another not counting, I wrote and cried, reeling and feeling the pain in the story of this line lonely and wandering, jagged and broken, so hurt, so alone I had to end the story, the story of this line of letters unknown collecting in holes torn through pages upon pages of paper the line to the last page came, the last page I would tell, broken and shattered forsaken and left to die, the line fell, like a teardrop from my eye simply, into peace ... |
| whoever destroys a single soul, has destroyed a whole world |
| story written as a little girl with a line before I could read and write |