Rising From beneath the Ashes And who shelled the roses in the vase? Who broke the vase? These are the remnants of the dove's wing- The same dove that, twenty years ago, Took refuge on my balcony. Who hurled my balcony into the rubble of my ruined house? And who did the phantoms of those Who stoned me Slip unnoticed Into the shards of my mirrors? Without my noticing? I am the messenger , Content of what my Creator has granted me . I have not trampled a single sprout in the meadows , To wound the memory of the water. I have not cast my face into the well, Yet I found a daffodil blooming Along the paths that lead home- My home after death. Nor have I slain a herb that follows my steps In dreams, Nor a violet that grows as memory On my daughter's shirt, Nor the souls of the fallen Nor the roads of suffering. This is me- Who slowed his enemies' hands, Letting them pause, if only for a fleeting moment, Betwe...