Web page designed and maintained by Kesef Webs
Among Trees
By Alizah Shatzky

While I walk among ancient trees
another village over there explodes.
The leaves hold colours of crimson gold,
yet I can't pronounce most names from over there.

I give thanks to ocean moods
and spawning salmon
and the presence of cedars,
in their survival is the hope
of the world.
But what of the desert
on fire with bombs?
Where is the hope?

If all things are connected
as my heart believes,
the way water meets land,
the writings of the wind
in creaking trees and
the carvings of meadows,
then my walk over here
can not pretend to
have nothing
to do with
over there.

It's easier to be
among trees
thinking of peace
while my children
are safe
and home is a place
of abundance.
And I don't hear the
sounds of
over there.

But over there has
some faces over here.
In the faces of
the homeless,
in the faces of
the lonely,
in the faces
of poverty.

Do the trees,
with their centuries-long
tenure in the forest,
compared to my brief visit,
witness the human
sadness
that seeps out
onto the earth?
And can I be so sure
that they 
do not weep
with each new
wound
on the
creation?

__________
Shatzky lives on  Bowen Island, British Columbia




New Menorah is a quarterly publication of ALEPH: Alliance for Jewish Renewal,
distributed free to members of ALEPH. We welcome new members.

Copyright of this article and all other articles in this issue of New Menorah
is held by the author. Copyright (c) 2003 by Alizah Shatzky.
Readers who are members of ALEPH may download and print individual copies
for their own use, or electronically forward no more than three other copies
without charge, for non-profit use only. Any such forward must include this notice. 
For permission to otherwise reproduce, distribute or republish any article,
please contact the author.
New Menorah - Spring 5763/2003

Among Trees
By Alizah Shatzky

While I walk among ancient trees
another village over there explodes.
The leaves hold colours of crimson gold,
yet I can't pronounce most names from over there.

I give thanks to ocean moods
and spawning salmon
and the presence of cedars,
in their survival is the hope
of the world.
But what of the desert
on fire with bombs?
Where is the hope?

If all things are connected
as my heart believes,
the way water meets land,
the writings of the wind
in creaking trees and
the carvings of meadows,
then my walk over here
can not pretend to
have nothing
to do with
over there.

It's easier to be
among trees
thinking of peace
while my children
are safe
and home is a place
of abundance.
And I don't hear the
sounds of
over there.

But over there has
some faces over here.
In the faces of
the homeless,
in the faces of
the lonely,
in the faces
of poverty.

Do the trees,
with their centuries-long
tenure in the forest,
compared to my brief visit,
witness the human
sadness
that seeps out
onto the earth?
And can I be so sure
that they 
do not weep
with each new
wound
on the
creation?

__________
Shatzky lives on  Bowen Island, British Columbia




New Menorah is a quarterly publication of ALEPH: Alliance for Jewish Renewal,
distributed free to members of ALEPH. We welcome new members.

Copyright of this article and all other articles in this issue of New Menorah
is held by the author. Copyright (c) 2003 by Alizah Shatzky.
Readers who are members of ALEPH may download and print individual copies
for their own use, or electronically forward no more than three other copies
without charge, for non-profit use only. Any such forward must include this notice. 
For permission to otherwise reproduce, distribute or republish any article,
please contact the author.
Web page designed and maintained by Kesef Webs