Peaceful Dwellings: A Poem for Matot-Masei

Journeys of reinvention, neighborhood of refuge
and cinema, where a poet’s footsteps echo louder
than those of the redeemer

Squashed olives on the stairs that belong
to cats and brides and graduates

Water gushes toward the valley in cascades
of petals, pebbles

Windmill sails hover over puddles, blurring
the reflection from the wine bar’s lightbulbs

On Pele Yoetz Street, my father pauses and recalls
our first walk one week ago —
the synagogue we passed, the bench we sat on
the photo he took of his wife and daughter
fountains and children in the background
and David’s tower

Nodding, he repeats out loud the names
of all that he may not return to see —
the sultan’s pool, the mayor’s park, the Turkish wall
days in a hotel on Hebron Road
room with a panoramic view

my mother on the edge of the bed
sewing my leggings’ seams
my father on the other side stretched out
resting after hours of sun and stones
and I, child again between them
watching the sky embrace the Mount of Olives, Zion

Julia Knobloch is a rising fifth-year rabbinical student at HUC-JIR Los Angeles. She also serves as poetry editor for Ben Yehuda Press.