by Miriam Bassuk (Seattle, WA)
Because we once were sisters
and our mothers were best friends.
Because I can still recall the swell of your hand
in mine, and I miss that warmth.
Because, though the sky darkens with soot and ash
and the rip of rocket fire sets my teeth on edge,
I want to sleep through the night near you.
Because the olive trees still flourish.
Though originally from the east coast, Miriam Bassuk treasures her life in the Northwest. Her daily walks inspire her with the teeming life of eagles, herons, and the occasional sighting of Orcas. She has been published in The Journal of Sacred Feminine Wisdom, Raven Chronicles, PoetsWest Literary Journal, and 3 Elements Review, and she was one of the featured poets in the digital portion of the WA 129 project sponsored by Tod Marshall, the Washington State poet laureate.
(“Why I am impatient for peace” first appeared in Consequence and is reprinted here with permission of the author.)
The Jewish Writing Project 