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starts the living poetry that's growing in my neighborhood. Every day I go into or by the metro (which is nearly every day) I see this poem gradually being formed - etched into stone like everything else in this town. But this etching is different. It's being created about 10-15 letters per day. I watch them etch. I watch them sand the etching so it blends into the wall. I watch them create a new hint of sadness and healing pour out of this poet's heart onto the face of my city. I experience the growth of an idea. I met the engraver, but didn't really talk to him. I told him that the poem was great, but I was in a hurry to get home. No time to talk to someone. But the words on the wall continue to form and touch my days. It also fits the theme of my life, lately, but in a much more anonymous way.
Here's an article (and the only reference I can find to it on the net).
PS. Now that I read the full poem, I think it's less magical, so if you want to keep the magic, just look a photo.
PPS. But someone wrote an article about this poem and its ties to being a rabbi.

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leftyjew

December 2011

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