26. dicembre 2016

BIRD MITZVAH We rose unto the mountaintop, to the aerie of the birds, Tristram’s grackles, the black, orange-tipped, and brownish, wide-winged birds hovering over the sacred site, flocks swooping and dipping, whistling, cooing and cawing, settling here and there on the edge of the restored walls of ancient rocks. So curious at the boys with kipas, and girls with head cloths, gathered with and without prayer shawls, speaking in memory of the past, the 960 who chose death by suicide, rather...