In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

136 ∂ yoM kiPPUr ‫ונחמה‬ ‫אבל‬ ‫שירי‬ ‫ר‬ ֵ ‫ח‬ ַ ‫א‬ ‫ה‬ ֶ ‫א‬ ְ ‫ר‬ ַ ‫מ‬ ,‫ל‬ ֵּ ‫פ‬ ְ ‫ל‬ ִּ ‫פ‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ץ‬ ֵ ‫ע‬ ְ ‫ל‬ ‫ת‬ ַ ‫ח‬ ַּ ‫ת‬ ִ ‫מ‬ ‫ה‬ ָ ‫ּע‬‫ו‬‫ב‬ ְּ ‫ק‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ה‬ ָּ‫ד‬ ֻ ‫ק‬ ְּ‫נ‬ ַּ ‫ב‬ ‫ת‬ ֶ ‫ב‬ ֶׁ ‫ֹש‬‫ו‬‫י‬ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫ר‬ ָ ‫ק‬ ‫ה‬ ֹ ּ ‫כ‬ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬ׂ ‫ש‬ ֲ ‫ע‬ ַ‫נ‬ ְ ‫ך‬ִ‫י‬ ַ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫מ‬ ְ ‫צ‬ ַ ‫ע‬ ‫י‬ ִּ ‫כ‬ ‫ד‬ ַ ‫ע‬ ‫ק‬ ֹ ‫מ‬ ָ ‫ע‬ ‫ל‬ ֵ ‫צ‬ ְּ ‫ב‬ ‫ן‬ ַּ‫ג‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ל‬ ֶׁ ‫ש‬ ‫ֹק‬‫ו‬‫ח‬ ָ ‫ר‬ ָ ‫ה‬ ‫ה‬ ֶ ‫צ‬ ָּ ‫ק‬ ַ ‫ל‬ ‫ּז‬‫ו‬‫ז‬ ָ ‫ל‬ ְ ‫ך‬ִ‫י‬ ַ ‫ל‬ ָ ‫ע‬ ֶׁ ‫ש‬ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫פ‬ ְ ‫ֹל‬‫ו‬ ּ‫ד‬ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬ ׁ ‫ש‬ ָּ‫ל‬ ַ ‫ח‬ ׁ ‫ש‬ ֶ ‫מ‬ ֶׁ ‫ש‬ ‫י‬ ֵ‫נ‬ ְ ‫ר‬ ַ ‫ק‬ ‫ם‬ ָׁ ‫ש‬ —‫ת‬ ֶ ‫ר‬ ֶ ‫ח‬ ֻ‫א‬ ְּ ‫מ‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ה‬ ָ ‫יח‬ ִ ‫ר‬ ְּ ‫פ‬ ַ ‫ל‬ ‫ד‬ ַ ‫ע‬ ַּ ‫ב‬ ִ ‫מ‬ ‫ים‬ ִ ‫א‬ ָׁ ‫ש‬ ְּ‫ד‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ל‬ ֶׁ ‫ש‬ ‫י‬ ִ‫נ‬ ֵּׁ ‫ש‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ר‬ ֶ ‫ב‬ ֵ ‫ע‬ ָ ‫ה‬ ‫ת‬ ֶ ‫א‬ ‫י‬ ִ ‫א‬ ְ ‫ר‬ ִּ ‫ת‬ ‫ם‬ ָּׁ ‫ש‬ ִ ‫מ‬ :‫ה‬ ָ ‫יר‬ ִּ ‫כ‬ ַ ‫מ‬ ְּ ‫ת‬ ַ ‫א‬ ֶׁ ‫ש‬ ְּ ‫ת‬ ְ ‫ב‬ ַׁ ‫ש‬ ָ ‫ח‬ ‫ם‬ ָ ‫ת‬ ָ ‫ּר‬‫ו‬‫צ‬ ְ‫ו‬ ‫ם‬ ֶ ‫יה‬ ֵ ‫ע‬ ְ ‫ב‬ ִ ‫צ‬ ‫ת‬ ֶ ‫א‬ ֶׁ ‫ש‬ ,‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫אל‬ ָּ ‫ק‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫ל‬ ְּ‫צ‬ ַ ‫ב‬ ֲ ‫ח‬ ‫ל‬ ֶׁ ‫ש‬ ‫ים‬ ִ ‫ל‬ ָ ‫ז‬ ְ ‫ר‬ ֻ ‫ק‬ ְּ ‫מ‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ים‬ ִ ‫ּמ‬‫ו‬‫ח‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫ו‬ ָ ‫צ‬ ְּ ‫ק‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ת‬ ֶ ‫א‬ ‫י‬ ִ ‫א‬ ְ ‫ר‬ ִּ ‫ת‬ ,‫ן‬ ֶ ‫יה‬ ֵ ‫יע‬ ִ ‫ב‬ ְ ‫ג‬ ִּ ‫ב‬ ‫ים‬ ִ ‫ר‬ ְ ‫ֹר‬‫ו‬ּ‫ג‬ ְ ‫ת‬ ִּ ‫מ‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ים‬ ִ ‫ר‬ ֹ ‫פ‬ ֲ ‫א‬ ָ ‫ה‬ ‫ים‬ ִ ‫ק‬ ָ ‫ר‬ ֲ ‫ח‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ת‬ ֶ ‫א‬ .‫ן‬ ֶ ‫יה‬ ֵ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫נ‬ ְ ‫ט‬ ִ ‫ב‬ ְ ‫ל‬ ‫ים‬ ִ ‫ק‬ ָּ ‫ב‬ ְ ‫ד‬ ִּ‫נ‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫ֹנ‬‫ו‬‫ז‬ ְ ‫ל‬ ֶ ‫ח‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ת‬ ֶ ‫א‬ ‫ר‬ ֶ ‫ד‬ ֶ ‫א‬ ָ ‫ה‬ ‫י‬ ֵּ‫ל‬ ַ ‫ז‬ ְ ‫ל‬ ַ ‫ז‬ ְ ‫ך‬ ֶ ‫ר‬ ֹ ‫א‬ ְ ‫ל‬ ְ ‫ך‬ִ‫י‬ ַ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫ע‬ ְּ ‫ב‬ ְ ‫צ‬ ֶ ‫א‬ ‫ת‬ ֶ ‫א‬ ‫ה‬ ָ ‫יצ‬ ִ ‫ר‬ ְ ‫מ‬ ְּ ‫ת‬ ַ ‫א‬ ‫ה‬ ָ ‫יר‬ ִ ‫ב‬ ְׁ ‫ש‬ ‫ה‬ ָ ‫ר‬ ֲ ‫ח‬ ַ ‫ת‬ ְ ‫ל‬ ּ‫ו‬‫כ‬ ְ ‫פ‬ ָ ‫ה‬ ְ‫ו‬ ּ‫ו‬ ׁ ‫ש‬ ְ ‫ב‬ָ‫י‬ ‫ים‬ ִ ‫מ‬ ָ ‫ד‬ ‫׆‬ ‫א‬‫ׇ‬ ּ ‫מ‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ם‬ ֶ ‫יה‬ ֵ ‫ל‬ ֲ ‫ע‬ ֶׁ ‫ש‬ . ּ ‫ה‬ ָ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫א‬ ‫ת‬ ֶ ‫פ‬ ֶּ ‫ט‬ ַ ‫ל‬ ְ ‫מ‬ ְּ ‫ת‬ ַ ‫א‬ ֶׁ ‫ש‬ ְּ ‫כ‬ ְ ‫ך‬ִ‫י‬ ַ ‫ד‬ָ‫י‬ ‫ל‬ ֶ ‫א‬ ‫ת‬ ֶ ‫ל‬ ֶ ‫ֹפ‬‫ו‬ּ‫נ‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫ר‬ ֵ‫נ‬ֹ‫ו‬‫מ‬ ְּ ‫כ‬ ‫ים‬ ִ ‫ק‬ ָ ‫ל‬ ְ ‫ד‬ ִ‫נ‬ ‫ֹת‬‫ו‬‫אל‬ ָּ ‫ק‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫י‬ ֵ ‫ֹל‬‫ו‬‫ע‬ ְ ‫ב‬ ִּ‫ג‬ ‫ֹם‬ ‫א‬ ְ ‫ת‬ ִּ ‫פ‬ .‫ן‬ִ‫י‬ ַ ‫ע‬ ָ ‫ל‬ ‫ה‬ ֶ ‫א‬ ְ ‫ר‬ ִ‫נ‬ ‫ל‬ ֹ ּ ‫כ‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ְ‫ו‬ ‫ר‬ ֹ ּ ‫ק‬ ַ ‫ה‬ ‫ל‬ ַ ‫ע‬ ‫ֹב‬ ׁ ‫ש‬ ֲ ‫ח‬ ַ ‫ל‬ ‫ה‬ ָ ‫ל‬ ֵ ‫ד‬ ֲ ‫ח‬ ְּ ‫ת‬ ַ ‫א‬ ‫ז‬ ָ ‫א‬ ‫ֹם‬‫ו‬ּ‫י‬ ַ ‫ה‬ֹ‫ו‬‫ל‬ ְ ‫ך‬ ֵ ‫ֹל‬‫ו‬‫ה‬ ‫ן‬ ָ ‫א‬ ְ ‫ל‬ ‫ה‬ ָ ‫ֹה‬‫ו‬‫ת‬ ְ‫ו‬ .ֹ‫ו‬ ּ ‫ת‬ ִ ‫א‬ ְ ‫ך‬ ֵ ‫ל‬ֵ‫י‬ ְ ‫ך‬ ֵ ‫מ‬ ְ ‫צ‬ ַ ‫ע‬ ֵ ‫מ‬ ‫ה‬ ָּ ‫מ‬ ַ ‫כ‬ ְ‫ו‬ Remembering the Lives ç 137 PoeMs oF grieF And consolAtion Another View Sitting in your usual spot under the pepper tree, in deep shade, until your bones become so cold you have to move to the far end of the garden where bits of sun leak through the late-season blossoms— From there you see the other side of grasses whose colors and shapes you thought you knew: you see the curled brown edges of the calla lilies, the gray insects lodged in their cups, the snails clinging to the undersides. You run your fingers along the length of the maple twigs whose reddened leaves have dried to a brittle lace that falls into your hands as you stroke it. Suddenly the lily stalks light up like candles and everything is visible. Then you stop thinking of cold and wonder where the day is going and how much of yourself will go along. ...

Share