I Asked for Light

I asked for light and the missing
tree promised more light 

I asked for the names of the dead
in Pittsburgh   New Zealand    Chicago 

heard only numbers    50 dead in Christchurch
saw faces no longer innocent or alive 

Without canopies of leaves there is nothing
between us and the sky    between us and strangers 

undressing behind shades    across the way
I do not know the names of those shot down in a mosque 

a synagogue or the far corners of my city
Nothing shields us and the wind

howls syllables of lost names
What do we make of the hollowness in the center?

What can we plant as streets empty of American Elms
and shutters close against centuries of loss? 

I peel them open rung by rung
reach for the hands of strangers

kneeling across prayer rugs
Hope comes in small increments of light 

Dina Elenbogen, a widely published and award-winning poet and writer, is author of the memoir “Drawn From Water: an American Poet, an Ethiopian Family, an Israeli Story” and the poetry collection “Apples of the Earth.”