Marge Piercy
Marge Piercy improvises a few choruses of Bitter herbs. Respond with a comment or Passover poem of your own.
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Marge Piercy improvises a few choruses of Bitter herbs. Respond with a comment or Passover poem of your own.
April 3rd, 2007 at 11:04 am
Pesach
Already the angel of death is passing over
your house–your door marked with the
bloody sacrifice and your windows sealed
against the hovering plagues. The closeness
of beating wings demands your attention.
You say “I need to be
transformed” and so you are–
re-sculpted in the flesh,
scars wrapping you like a
talisman against the evil eye.
This must be
the narrow place you are
passing through, to be reborn
as one who knows the sound of
a silent warning overhead, as one
who knows the wounded body
can be carried into battle
with perfect beauty,
more holy, more whole.
for Lauren
April 20th, 2007 at 8:34 am
Stunning.
Watching Marge Piercy work is an amazing experience for me.
Thanks for this view of my long-time writing heroine.