Velvet of our Evening
Photo by Ilia Bronskiy on Unsplash
A Poem by Lisa M. Johnson
kol d'mama daka : Hebrew for “still small voice”
i.
The inky crow perches cold and vigilant,
looming above my cave
on a branch that never breaks.
Its companion, the milky moon
watches over me, as a fire by night.
I climb the morning’s mountain
that lay before me, dread—
though my feet trodden.
My heart, alone, crestfallen–
all my triumphs vexed.
ii.
Reluctant, I ascend,
as the sun boils and burns—
my eyes squint blind with illusion,
fleeting umbra and palisade smoke.
Ashes of quiet vapor lift— in dawn’s early light.
Come! Go ahead— send the wind!
Send the earthquake! Send the fire!
Speak, Lord— louder!
I want to hear from you.
Show off your great and mighty power!
iii.
In my collapse, I settle down
exhausted inside the ridge.
Straining— waiting to hear your murky words.
And finally— in the velvet of our evening,
you faithfully speak.
In my stillness.
In my quiet.
In hush of night,
your whisper comes.
Kol d'mama daka—
For you, I would.
Lisa M. Johnson is a retired Italian grandmother, mentor and poetry writer. She enjoys discovering rest, healthy rhythms and healing through grief therapy, story-work and time in her garden. Other published works are included in the Publish Her Press Anthology, The Way Back To Ourselves and Calla Press Literary Journals. Find her on Substack at In The Quiet / Lisa M. Johnson and on Instagram at @lisamicelijohnson
