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Priests Who Purify
Priests who purify with words
Bring down machlochet,
Sui generis.
Such valued rhetorical baubles,
Lifted from Hashem’s private store
Gifts of trust, sparkles of devotion,
Matter more than generations
Of patronymic heritage.
The sacredness of cobblestone,
Plus lushness, in select valleys
Continue to sing
Over Golda Meir Highway ’s namesake.
A cloud removed from the sky,
An increase in temperature, too,
Brings lesser desert treasure.
The tenor remains, though,
In all cases; The Holy Land.
Only vehicles vary.
Here, groves sprout, literal
Tributes to the Klal’s dead
While other places struggle
To bud awareness.
Our desert-cleaned infections,
Perfect prophets.
David HaMelech’s green pastures
Bring balm to the faithful.
Galilee is lovely, Tzfat, holy,
But the north, never again,
Feels entirely safe for babies.
A beard and hat, also nine others,
Join for minyon.
Purity needs no prayerful sibilance
Or rounded offerings.
Abu Dis, and Silwan are homes to 1,000 Jews
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