Been at it for forty long years,
But there’s always work to be done.
These are the high holy days.
Ripple and churn the primordial sea,
Put your shoulder into it.
Rake gouache grass that makes the mane
On an Arab horse stand wildfree.
Till the earth and sputter the creek—
The body and heart ache in righteous ways.
You’ve reached the handsome shade
Of siberian larches, familiar lurch of fenugreek leaves.
Close your immigrant eyes and dream of olive trees
In Upper Galilee. Sycamores in Netanya.
Mt. Sinai rests among the Rockies
As you water the plains with pomegranate seed sweat,
Build Beersheba under clouds in the Canadian Negev.
Anvesh Jain is an undergraduate student of International Relations at the University of Toronto. His work has previously been published in the Literary Review of Canada, the London Reader, Adelaide magazine, and Vayavya. He is an Associate Editor at the Hart House Review. Visit his website for more information: https://anveshjain.com/