ANEMONES

Anemones was a poem by my dear friend, Ilana Haley. She was born into the world of first years of an Israeli Kibbutz, when the Zionist communities were fighting for survival against enemies that wanted them utterly wiped out. Ilana lived through the early wars and saw many things a young soul should never have to see. These years and those events shaped her into a marvelous person who embraced adventure and valued honesty and truth in intimacy. She continues to write to this day. Her writing is enormously mature and engaging. 

I wrote a book analyzing some of her poetry, as a gift to her (JERUSALEM POEMS). She is a world-class poet and author of fiction. I hope to see her publish more of her work soon.

ANEMONES 

The silence was at its deepest,
the stillness undisturbed,
the crickets ceased their racket;
night-watchmen slept their guard
and the anemones, red, red anemones
sang to the girl in the bedroom
where she rested in solitude.
 
Obeying an inner command,
she rose up from her bed
night-clothed she went to stand
at the door that she had opened.

anemones, red, red anemones
sang to the girl in the bedroom
where she rested in 
solitude.

For a moment, she stood listening,
then closed the door behind her
and walked into the night more like floating,
on moonbeams expecting no answer.

anemones, red, red anemones
sang to her  solitude.

anemones, red, red anemones
sang to her  solitude.

Down the moonlit path, 
toward the old water tower, 
where, a few weeks gone past,
five corpses of soldiers lay on the ground
wrapped in blood-stained army blankets.

anemones, red, red anemones
sang to her  solitude.


Time leaped back.
She saw the corpses, stretched out,
their naked feet protruding in ghost like       
in the moon light.

“I am dreaming, and my eyes can see . . .
Anemones, red, red anemones,
I am dreaming, yet my eyes see . . .”
Anemones

 
She bent down, lifted the blankets
searched the faces; 
with the tips of her fingers, 
extraordinarily softly,
touched the faces.

anemones, red, red anemones
sang to her  solitude.

anemones, red, red anemones
sang to her  solitude.

Poem © by Ilana Haley/
Music, video, audio recording 
© by John Brusseau 6 29 2025.