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Writer's pictureשגיא שדור

Ruth

Updated: Jul 1

Halfway across the planet

You became the Neomi to my Ruth.

There was no way around it,

Love became my only root.


We left our land of fire,

For trees, for grand blue skies;

We left our land of desire

For green that never dies.


But O, I miss my home,

I miss the scorch, those aches.

I know we had to roam,

But O, my heart – it breaks.


I wish to hear the voices far,

To smell the thick, blackened smoke.

I know. That’s just the way things are,

But O, this pain can’t be revoked.

"Ruth In The Field With Boaz". Painting by Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld
"Ruth In The Field With Boaz". Painting by Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld
 

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