Back to Issue Twelve

Two Poems by Sue Rose

ז

Zayin (zah-een)

Hilt and blade thrust

down, digit portrayed,

zayin strikes the drum

for the need to stand

and be counted: seven

for the Sabbath, repose

from the grind, ease

and blessing, it bestows

sustenance. Sourced

from origins that shape

the mattock, its root

is the reap and glean

of crops, food to survive,

mazon or zun. Buzzed

with a quiet tongue

between the teeth,

it spells za’am, rage,

zman, time, zicharon,

memorial, zacher,

remember, the mazel,

luck, of not being born

there, but here; now,

not then. Kiss the fingers

that graze the mezuzah

gracing the door frame

of your house, muzzle

the doubts and uphold

the two-edged weapon

that gains peoples

a home, land, respite.

□

Unknown

letter, shape that awaits

revelation in a later world,

this is the missing symbol

that will mend the place

of hurt where grief plumes

like a city of debris rent

with sirens. Creator

of new words that turn

wrong to right, repair,

reform, this consonant

once heard will chime

its rightness. Enigma

of tongue against palate

or lips kissing breath,

it will rise in thanksgiving

from our depths and press

its sibilance to the cheek

of the child who sleeps

through the night’s silence.