When you’re coming back to life,
You bring the vibes of Cockle Creek Road, The curve of the bay, the huddling trees, And the sound of the wind is a ceaseless code Of the words of your soul. You light Matches, you burn wicks, and You do not see the light of the sun in the west. And one day that light will shine through your hand, Will shine in your chest and your legs, And as you walk on the road, you’ll find That your own light was so small, And you walk in a light that is so kind That is so stern that is so deep, Lights that dance on the gravel Of the road, that float in the evening Lavender, that slowly loosen to unravel.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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October 2019
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