Mizmor L'David Anthology 


Poetica Magazine: Contemporary Jewish Writing

Valerie Bacharach

I’m thinking about prayer as I stand in my yard

with all its variations of green,

how the colors change in shade and sun,

how my words feel empty as they rise

from my mouth, leave the world unheard.

Above me, the ginkgo’s branches frame bits of sky.

Clouds move in and out of my vision

as I stare upward.

I want to petition God, conceive a list

of faded memories that dissolve

in the curve of space, the fracture of time.

What lives in the absence of my past?

My prayers are unformed things, cells

not yet attached, a cocoon not yet breached.

Wind chimes ring, amber-colored tones.

Perhaps my yearning will mingle with its notes,

rise with wind, find, somehow,

the mysterious ear of God.