Mandy Beattie

Waiting with the “Women of the Wall”

I remember,

mosaics of jagged, stone crannies.
Crannies, clutching cargoes of hope –

Prayer-paper-pleas – Ghosts in dust-haar,
oozing desperate do-or-die, poetry.

Keening – Silenced in black and blue ink, or
grey graphite. Rivers of red standing down,

Standing by.

I remember,

a prayer-policeman’s hiss. His rebuttal of my
prayer-paper-plea’s rings of rote – The runt.

I knew nothing of stone stand-offs, then –

Now. Now, all I see are gaps. Gaps without
pontoons – XY-chromosomes’ still

Stonewall –

“The Women of the Wailing Wall” Wait –
Their every breath a shadow……..

I wait, with them.