by Yonit Kariv
Where gods are lost to memory;
Where people are gathered with eyes closed
To the deities.
Where one does not weep, bent over dead life;
Where roses are destined to be roses
And not red clutch by bloodied hands.
There, a new born's laughter calls down rain,
And no one hates the laughter born
There, the key to harmony
Is as the oneness in the hearts of clouds.
There is no key of contention
Where the key unlocks worlds born anew.
