Between Aleph and Tav

We Dance upon the Bones

The wind carries echoes of lost tongues,
syllables crumbling like sandstone,
forgotten prayers, unfinished songs,
carved deep in catacombs of lost empires.

Our feet stir the dust of their monuments,
treading rhythms older than their crowns.
We were here when they rose—
we are here as they fall.

A hundred banners, a thousand flags,
all moth-eaten, rain-washed, nameless.
Yet our thread remains unbroken,
woven in the warp of exile and return.

The sea once swallowed Pharaoh’s chariots,
Babylon’s gardens withered to dust,
Rome’s marble palaces shattered—
but we, we are still dancing.

We dance upon the bones of dead empires,
and never forget which way Yerushalayim lies.

— Chaya Feldstein