Kahan

Eyes are likened to sea

but yours are gemstones

are blue zircons......are not

sapphire......are not turquoise

are lapis

are aquamarine

•

Inwardly looking on vineyards

on olive groves hands

that might plant grapes

that might gather fruit

in an orange grove turn

the mimeographed pages

of a history of your people

in this prairie place

•

“over there is the farm

I wish I could show you

the house where I was born

it was built of logs

it had three rooms

•

the school was named Tiferes Israel”

•

Kahan

•

you are in love with the fields

with the bluffs of poplar

your hands

your father’s hands

cleared all that bush

broke all that prairie

under the hard plow

you turn your gaze downwards

as we pass the place

that used to be your farm

your farmer’s hands tremble

on the pages of the book

•

later you stand at the gate of the small cemetery

explain “I am of the house of the high priest

may not walk in the acre of the dead

my feet may not touch those places where

my people are seeded in the prairie

rich wheat in the prairie grass”

•

eyes are likened to lakewater

to distance to air to sky

•

your eyes are gemstones

set deep in the metal of your face

are tourmaline

are lapis lazuli