I am from the horse

On one foot at city hall
And the general who cared

For nothing less than the king’s head.
I am from the lamps that fought monsters

And the clock that left the red stains on the wall
I am from learning to snap

While staring at the ceiling
And respecting the whiteness

Of white walls.
I am from the tulips

Above the basement
And the tree trunks

That can hold a secret.
I am from the matzos

Cracking to their own tune
And the nesting dove

High above in the Christmas tree.
I am from the ashes

That lay at the bottom of a philosopher’s pipe

When they’ll stir up again

Nobody knows.