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 Our
Angels (for
Yehuda Amichai)
by Howard Schwartz
Our angels
spend much of their time sleeping
In their dreams
They tear down the new houses by the sea
And build old ones
in their place.
No matter how long they may sleep
One hundred two hundred years
Ten centuries is not too much
The first to wake up
Takes the torch that has been handed down
Adds a drop of oil to the lamp
Blesses the eternal light
And then recalls the name
Of every other angel
and one by one as they are remembered
They wake up.
For them as for
us
there is nothing more beautiful
Than memory.
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The Angel
Michael
by Anath Bental
The angel Michael
visited my room,
Sat by my side
The whole night,
From midnight to dawn.
His words were full of comfort
And his arms embraced me,
Caressed me,
And he poured warm kisses over me.
The angel
Michael spoke and I listened.
It seemed to me that I fell in love
With this angel
In one hour.
 Then
I struggled with myself
Like Jacob with his angel.
For I knew he was only an angel
And that at dawn
He would disappear.
Afterwards
I tried to recall
The image of his face,
But he is not here
And only his voice
Still echoes
inside me.
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