I miss singing, the way we trusted/the air that moved between us. I miss/the casual assumption that everything/would be all right in the morning.

What if you thought of it as the Jews consider the Sabbath— the most sacred of times? Cease from travel. Cease from buying and selling. Give up, just for now, on trying to make the world different than it is. Sing. Pray. Touch only those to whom you commit your life. Center down. And when your...

There is no algebra for death. No life lost cancels out another. The idea that there is some other side to the equation is a lie perpetrated by centuries of war and revenge. There is no other side. You cannot subtract and equalize the equation. There is an addition of loss, grief upon grief upon...

A man sits on the rubble— not just in the rubble, but on the pile of what remains. No people in the bombed-out houses. No dogs. No birds. Just ragged hunks of concrete and loss. And on his perch he is playing an instrument constructed of what is left—an olive oil can, a broom handle, a bowed...

By what are you saved?And how? Saved like a bit of string, tucked away in a drawer? Saved like a child rushed from a burning building, already singed and coughing smoke? Or are you salvaged like a car part—the one good door when the rest is wrecked? Do you believe me when I say you are neither...

Where will you go home? These mountains cannot receive you, and there is no cave or grave to be dug for you in your old hills. And still a current of air keeps singing home . . . home as if that meant something you could go to, as if something could finally stand still. Turn then, and keep turning.

What a gathering—the purple tongues of iris licking out at spikes of lupine, the orange crepe skirts of poppies lifting over buttercup and daisy. Who can be grim in the face of such abundance? There is nothing to compare, no need for beauty to compete. The voluptuous rhododendron and the plain...

The universe does not revolve around you. The stars and planets spinning through the ballroom of space dance with one another quite outside of your small life. You cannot hold gravity or seasons; even air and water inevitably evade your grasp. Why not, then, let go?...