Through her inspirational poetry, photography and stories of encounters with Jews, Moslems and Christians, Ruth Fogelman takes you on a journey through Jerusalem's Old City and its Jewish Quarter.
Many of the poems, stories and the profiles on these pages, and in all of Ruth Fogelman's books, display a strong awareness of the Muslim and Christian as well as the Jewish within Jerusalem – the call of the muezzin and the church bells, the black-robed priests and the Muslim sitting at a market-corner in prayer as part of the city’s fabric – both on the physical and spiritual planes. To quote Prof. Harold Fisch, the particular and the universal in Judaism are intertwined.
Through Ruth's poetry and stories, you will see that peaceful co-existence between Jew and non-Jew is a reality today. Touring her photo gallery, you will find the beauty of life - and still-life - with the Old City Walls.
Through Ruth's poetry and stories, you will see that peaceful co-existence between Jew and non-Jew is a reality today. Touring her photo gallery, you will find the beauty of life - and still-life - with the Old City Walls.
see Ruth's latest published work
POEM OF THE MONTH
Early Morning In Elul
Villanelle
The old woman sits at the Western Wall.
Although she’s toothless and her eyes are dim
she sits and waits for the shofar’s call.
Around her shoulders a white shawl
her face sags, her expression grim
the old woman sits at the Western Wall.
Across her hands gold bracelets fall
on her gray blouse’s collar, white trim,
she sits and waits for the shofar’s call.
Her hands are as crinkled as the stones of the Wall,
they hold a thick volume of Tehillim ––
The old woman sits at the Western Wall.
She pulls around her the crocheted shawl
and whispers a psalm or a hymn
while she sits and waits for the shofar’s call.
She gazes up at morning’s pinkish-gold hues of the Wall.
Her swollen fingers fondle the holy book’s rim
she sits and waits for the shofar’s call ––
the old woman at the Western Wall.
Villanelle
The old woman sits at the Western Wall.
Although she’s toothless and her eyes are dim
she sits and waits for the shofar’s call.
Around her shoulders a white shawl
her face sags, her expression grim
the old woman sits at the Western Wall.
Across her hands gold bracelets fall
on her gray blouse’s collar, white trim,
she sits and waits for the shofar’s call.
Her hands are as crinkled as the stones of the Wall,
they hold a thick volume of Tehillim ––
The old woman sits at the Western Wall.
She pulls around her the crocheted shawl
and whispers a psalm or a hymn
while she sits and waits for the shofar’s call.
She gazes up at morning’s pinkish-gold hues of the Wall.
Her swollen fingers fondle the holy book’s rim
she sits and waits for the shofar’s call ––
the old woman at the Western Wall.
from Cradled in God's Arms
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