Trisha Lord

The Saturday Butterfly
Following a Saturday butterfly,
snaking through the garden towards the sea,
I chanced upon a mountain of flowers, unbeknown to me.
What are these doing growing here, so wonderfully free?
Ah me! I wish that I could be a Saturday butterfly:
What a fine life this would be! On my way across the garden
and down towards the sea.

The snake he does not see either butterfly or the sea,
But he smells those flowers surely,
as sure as he smells me.  A sniffing snake, a sniffy snake,
sneaking down the tree.  I wonder what he’ll make of
the butterfly and me?  Ah well!  What does it matter?
As long as I am free!  I’ve faced that sneaky snake before!
He does not frighten me.

But the shaking Saturday butterfly,
she’s not as brave as me, and she seems to have missed the flowers
and is heading for the tree!  I’ll sit down here and watch it all:
it is not down to me to save the Saturday butterfly
from the snake inside of me.  I’ll sit, and breathe, and wait
and see what happens to the sea, as it laps the shore by the garden
of the snake and his shady tree.

Miriam Biderman

Oh wind

Oh wind, have you seen her?
No, not this one, but the other one

Are you the wind that blows no good?
Are you the wind that can soothe and caress
a burning body with distorted skin?

Are you the wind that comes from the East and destroys all it envelops?
Or are you the wind that comes from the West and brings the healing rain?

Oh wind, will you see them?

No, not only those who all perished together,
but this one too – she has suffered for such a long time.

She must learn to let go!
We must learn to let go!

Oh wind, will you help us in our struggle and pain?
Blow your hardest and take away our grief and strain.