A valley:
Dark and deep
And hidden in the vestiges of time;
Reserved in shadows for when time is done
Forbidden, dry and bleak and white,
Beyond the hallows of the ancient sun;
Rest place of the reaper’s blade
Of bones

Jacob’s death
Lies old and silent there
Beneath the ceaseless, sunless light of doom
And cries:
Blood-red and dry and dusty tears
For hope cut off, and perished
Beneath a pogrom’s
Snowy moon