In The Long Hours


In the long hours of midnight's play
the juniper berries formed a choir
to sing in the winter solstice.

Plates were shining, reflecting
ravaged weight-laden faces
starvation trickling down to their chins.

They do not make wine anymore
the crush became too much for their ears
and travelled feet started to itch when
the sister-lands called and called.

As fragrant winds burrowed deeply
into their sewn on ears, exhaling
'wash your heavy faces in neutral rivers,
your burden removed.'

shalome � 2004


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