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'''Title: A Poem'''

'''Author:     B.Z. Nictitch'''

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Evan the stones
Are impateint
As a black shroud
Of years is as one 
day.
Rocks are heard to 
resurrect,
By innocent eye 
glasses conquerd,
Near a synagogue of 
children,
Now lost somewhere 
on abandonded fields.
Jets over ashen 
heavens, 
Cover the heads of 
piolets,
We remembering 
Neighbors,
Who will not look back 
at you.
The wind has loosed 
itself,
From a half century 
of murdered lines,
An obituary of stars,
Notices only the 
nights breathing.

[[Category:Poetry and Song]]