when the clouds fade and night awakes
we wait by the muddy stream where the reeds grew
and the graceful crane flew.
away from the congestion of the city
you and I have our place on the mountain's head
in the fresh air of spring.
we see below the cliff, a pale sea of mourning widows
flow throughout the streets, cluttering the synagogues
with broken hopes and heads bowed.
their cries raise Heavenward, like little strands of a song
but are quieted by earth's end.
where will they go tomorrow, what will become of my sisters?
i don't want to become like ...
Night Skies, Night Skies
I like to talk to the night skies,
because they listen to me.
They read my emotions
as I pour out my heart,
and respond accordingly.
When I smile the stars twinkle,
and as I laugh the clouds spin around the earth.
And on those nights when I can't help but cry
the skies fill me with mirth.