Caesura

You were candy-cane ribbons, silky coils of color,
As you played, giving an impish tug on a branch.

You were enough color to set the sky aflutter.
Shaming the pink and orange—even the daring purple!—with your flirtations.
And just remembering, I am a deluge of color,
Mostly yellow, as I recall, in awe, the bold grasp of your arms,
And the purposefulness of your feet on the peeking roots of the oak tree.

You swung and your toes made an upside down arc-en-ciel.
And the branch, laden with the weight of a girl,
Bowed in creaky submission.
My cowardice kept me still, but the oak tree and I,
We knew what it was to bend for you,
To open a little more in prismatic wonderment.

Call Two Arms (in progress)

When the shofar trumpets
Instead of weapons
Let's call two arms
Two arms to encircle
Two arms to lift up

So mothers, who beat the ground
And to the vacant sky, call
Where has my son gone?
Where has my sun gone?
They'll have two arms, supporting
Two arms, embracing

Until tiny feet marching
Are tiny feet marching
No more

And when they smear war paint
On their cheeks and their chests
Let's call two arms
Two arms to reclaim
Two arms to hold close