These days of great intensity
by Judy Katz-Levine
I am climbing Miriam's ladder, the rungs are pearl,
calla lilies float around me.
The down-gray sky urges fortitude and the whistling of a strange harmony
imbued with the intensity of a gospel.
Nothing will pull me down, no evil hand
brushing against a dying bird will keep me from life's breath.
The daughter I am climbing with will be singing her high lydians
and her computers will send lights to mysterious friends.
There's a thrill to life,
an edge to the way hands move through my hair.
You can bet they are not invisible,
you can bet they are doves.
* * * * *
These words will hang around with me a long while: "The down-gray sky urges fortitude and the whistling of a strange harmony
ReplyDeleteimbued with the intensity of a gospel."