More on: Poetry

Laura Budofsky Wisniewski hears from her Bubbe’s ghost.

Hadara Bar-Nadav on praying at Jerusalem’s Western Wall.

Cal Freeman on the mythological cockatrice, which kills with a glance.

This is how the movie ends in movies­—
The fade, the retreat, image dissolving
into the bath that bore it.

Prayer is silence, / spirit-bones and soul-blood fluctuant as breath.

I remember you in your final atonement, how calm you were. 
Though you couldn’t tell me, you understood the names hidden in the dusk. 

Benjamín Naka-Hasebe Kingsley on an east Pennsylvania rite of passage.

The voice of your brother’s blood 
is crying to me from the ground.

How to do it, how hold
in balance

what misses the mark
and what hits it

That was terrorism,
she says. I know evil.

. . . I love her and how do we

explain her?