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Poetry, explorations and musings by Bonnie Wolkenstein. Join her at the upcoming Guanajuato Writing Retreat!

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With 90 seconds left on the Doomsday Clock »

If I forget thee, O Jerusalem

January 26, 2024 by BHW

The expansive bowed head of the weeping willow

obscured the street, illusion of isolation inked

permanent. Unobstructed, its water-seeking roots

could not reach pipes or property lines.

Salix Babylonica have carried their mistaken name

almost three centuries, have no progenitors

who stood along the banks of the Euphrates,

ornamented with lament and lyres of the uprooted,

exiles taunted to sing of joy

for their desecrated home.

This tree provided refuge

from a home that still stands, inhabitants peaceably

and fairly exchanged, its exterior pale butter yellow

now, a vast expanse of sod surrounds its stump,

headstone to a life ended naturally,

at its predestined moment, a cycle so rare,

a grief clean as dirt, holy.

What refuge can a young girl need

in a life of plenty? I sat under the cascade

of ground-sweeping branches, behind its curtain

of yellow green lacey boughs, lanceolate leaves

glittering their silvery undersides, the slender

swaying pendulum a sanctuary of shade,

wordless wind whispers.

As we have done for centuries, we lived

mostly in the house, not on the land. We wove

no baskets from fallen branches, made no tea

from its bark, paid no mind to the catkin blooms’

pollen in early spring, the first to draw honeybees.

I was the only one to use its shade. I brought

out the mutt that was never called a mutt,

its pedigree as “three-quarter English

Springer Spaniel” meant to confer blood

right, passing nomenclature of suburban Semitics

laying claim to an adopted homeland.

She was my confessor, she who absolved me

with eager, ever-forgiving tail wag, her easy lean

into my hands, the way she dropped her head

in my lap, and for a moment the loneliness

I’d professed lifted from my bony shoulders,

a sacred secret the willow guarded.

Exile flows through blood lines, less perceptible

with each generation, an invisible, odorless

third helix braided with strands of genetic destiny,

creating restlessness and unease. First generations

vow not to forget. Small tracts of this planet

have never belonged to any of its inhabitants.

Ownership a shared illusion, expulsion inked

permanent.

Posted in Ancestry, Bible Story, DNA, Exile, Willow | Leave a Comment

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