Leah's Psalm

(Poem by Wendy Howe )

On a cliff
the morning wind
feels brisk

combing a fleece
of white blossoms,

parting a sea
of Hebrew hair.

I will not twist
grace into a shawl
that ties
at the back of my head

and drops its long
ending before the sky.

I am a song
lasting the moment,

a glance,
scent or hand print
that will fade but cast
its mood of defiance.

My tribeswomen say
all hills on the western shore
belong to them, to their families.

But, I say the land
belongs to the land --

limestone and grass
grape vines and lemons
lizard and hawk.

And I know
woman is not a stretch
of linen dragging
between two spools

on which scholars write
their guidance

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Portrait de feu et de glace

(Drawing by )

Le cygne

© 2011,

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No, she is one
who grips the door latch
letting in
or locking out

this shadow
called fate,

this wind
called the Breath of God.

© 2011, Wendy Howe. E-mail.

To know more  about this poem,   about Wendy Howe

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