Marta Luzim’s Writing The Wave: The Muse Who Stands Over my Shoulder

Sarah, the Hebrew Priestess
A headdress of purple cloth
Gold earrings jingle
A blast of dust stamps the arid place where she stands
She is alone, calling, reaching to be seen and heard
Her voice buried under sand dunes of time
She’s been hung from crosses and burnt at the stake
She is resurrected with a prayer
The mourner’s prayer, candles eternally lit
Her soul rises and walks clouds toward the Moon
She breathes life into her breasts
Her milk spills across the galaxy
And pours secrets that were buried alive
Sarah haunts me, my lineage cries out to me and she floats
Like a Chagall angel that sings the song of ancestry
My muse Sarah rocks me, wakes me and stands solid

This post was written by

Leave a Reply