Jerusalem Of Rainbows, Jerusalem Of Brides Poem by Eli Spivakovsky

Jerusalem Of Rainbows, Jerusalem Of Brides

Rating: 5.0


Speak to me without speaking.
I hear your voice in my mind
and the airplane is ascending
and so my soul returns.

We're walking to the Old City
the air is bursting.
The angels are dispatched
the windows are all open
Jerusalem of rainbows:
like a rainbow everything follows it
and it can't be captured for long.

Between the rainbow oil spills
and the time-lapsed lights.
From sleep to wake:
from port to port.
I search for you
for the subtlety of a kiss
so that I may belong to something
at once bigger and smaller than this city.
A storm of rose petals surrounds me
as I look for the source
my confectioner
my diamantaire
my dauphin
wave a flag at pitch night
and I will follow the sound of its flapping
and I will follow you to infinity, the prince of numbers
and study 'Columba' with you, the constellation of a dove.

Your kiss is worth more than a hundred lost poems.
A flower must have given birth to you.
Your eyes are like amber-diamonds
softened to me
and pupils like smouldering coals
told me I was finally home.
A rainbow is composed
and indigo and violet light
rests around your head
and I choose to believe it.

The seven firmaments swirl above us
Today, there is not a saint walking the streets
so a million points of light shine their colours instead

Then it's time to the Western Wall
where the sky falls on you
and there is a chasm
between you and the stones.
And the gate of tears
like a crevasse between you and the heavens
and the gulf is filled with
blooming prayers
which turn almost into a flower blizzard
and take your heart's secrets
to many firmaments
and it takes many steps to leave
and you don't want to.

The airplane descends
I look out the window:
a network of tiny lights
drips and spills into golden cities and
a shining lattice studs the cyan evening.
A trellis with you as its centre.

Every night I return.
My soul finds the same destination.
Jerusalem of rainbows
and the whole city is telepathic
and the Sabbath has expanded over the week
and yet there is still room for one more bride
there is room for one more bride.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM

Very nice journey in your poem..

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