Joanne Jackson Yelenik | Thunderclaps and lilacs
Thunderclaps
After Carl Sandburg, “The fog comes/on little cat feet.”
Distant rumblings, like fog, come sounding footsteps,
strangers gifting me.
A woman on a Jerusalem bus asks with her eyes:
“Feel the earth
shift slightly on its axis?”
I write on a white board with blue marker:
“Jot down the first time the sea parted for you;
be specific.”
Today in my garden,
a blade of grass surprised by my not stepping on it,
straightened up to its full mint julep height
to thank me for my compassion.
All that pales before the twitch of your back muscles,
ripples of waves breaking beneath your fitted shirt,
as you sense me approaching.
***
Lilacs in Bloom
Bahera, hello, were we to end here because of the hard times, with unanswered emails, the loss would be more than not yet budded flower of lilacs, the fragile friendship of two women, one Jewish, one Arab, mothers of sons, the ease of them together flowing as the waterfall where we sat and laughed and shared what your girlhood was in the North of Israel, speaking Hebrew, savoring Jewish stew flavored with Arab spices and the other way around, and my girlhood in Brooklyn, almost entirely ethnic, tasting of Italian pizza, Irish potatoes, Jewish kugles. I will not say that were it to end like this there will be more instances than we would like to think of sleeping thirteen year old girls dying in their beds, the life blood flowing out of them, never to reach womanhood. I will hold back from those images, but the promise, Bahera, of there being ten years hence two women such as we, sitting and lunching at Mamilla as we did, embracing each other with our smiles, while others look on, wondering, marveling, would be reduced, and the sight of lilacs in full bloom gracing our land, sending out their sweet aroma will remain a dream of dwellers on the Golan Heights, and visitors to Jerusalem’s botanical garden.
Joanne Jackson Yelenik’s poems and stories have appeared in anthologies and journals, most recently, her prose poem, A Chat, appeared in Unbroken Journal, issue #10. She teaches in the fields of history and literature. A favorite writing spot is her garden, or a picnic table in the neighboring Judean Hills. Her debut novel, Eucalyptus Leaves: Deliciously Asymmetrical in Israel, will be launched in the fall.
Joanne Jackson Yelenik Unbroken Journal #10 A Chat
Hello there Aryeh, I do want to hear your questions—the practical, about Michaeli, your day, the learning, Shabbat, what to do now, next, later, when. And more than that, our laughter, my telling of the applause at the poetry reading, your designing on the computer, the focus group reactions to my novel, your voice, how hot the days, how cool the nights, this book I’m reading, the ones you’re skimming; it’s been forever, the days just fly but often, from moment to moment, I find you, there, in your room, or another, on one of the sofas you love, in the garden, often the car, although now it’s a new one, with less of your imprint. Still you can appear from out of a slant of light, within a refreshing breeze of your cologne or the fragrance of a lemon tree, along the sound waves of planes in the sky, just in the air I breathe, that in another minute or one past, you breathed, or will, tomorrow, or just now, as you are reading or not, this email.
eucalyptus Leaves 
Mixed genre. Yes. How else should a love story be written? Enjoyed your blog so much. Thank you for unfolding those delicate leaves of your life!
How nice! You get it all, just like that. Wonderful! And thanks.