Living Stones

The Narrative


Yehuda Amichai is pondering a cracked
ancient Jerusalem stone with his fingers—
no point in appeasing a stone, he whispers
as he rubs the obstinate,
light-lifting indentation
that punctuates its forehead—

Do stones have wombs, he wonders? Or can they be
sculpted into nests for birds?


He serves bundles of stones
to the bent mourners:
this one is for the burial procession
around the olive groves;
this one for the lone, smoky arm
left on the sidewalk;
this one for the half-deaf Arab who listens
to the whisper of stones
and smells in their skin
a heavenward thyme;
this one for each stolen fingerprint
taken at the airport.   [more]

Deema K. Shehabi

2 thoughts on “Living Stones

  1. How on earth did I miss this one? Amazing lines! Stones!! I can’t even begin to pick out what I like best. I’m at a loss for words (for once in my life)! Beautiful comes to mind about a hundred times. And I’m panting as I read it. Freaking amazing.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s