Ira Scott Levin
author/ lyricist/ musician
Ira Scott Levin
Selected Poems:
In Abbeystowry
​
In an open field of green
where children could dream,
or picnic courtships flourish,
the raining mist bears witness
to the 10,000 buried
without coffins, shrouds,
or records; lost to famine,
lost to fever.
Not the will of God
but isolation, inhumanity…
All these souls in Skibbereen
do not mean to cause us suffering. They’ve done enough of that already.
Yet, they call us to remember-
there were songs, there was living.
Remember them as worthy;
as great beauty that is resting-
an interrupted dream,
just below the green.
​
Inspired by the words of
Terri Kearney of the Skebbereen Heritage Centre and our beloved tour leader, Theresa Kavanagh
​
An After Dinner Mint
​
What if you knew
You were Love incarnate?
Would you mind
doing the dishes?
Ashes in the Stream
​
The Ganges is filled with pyres
and is considered holy.
Our mind is flooded with thoughts.
We can wash them in milk and honey,
enfold them in love,
anoint them with sandalwood and turmeric,
ignite in honor,
recognize them as
ashes in the stream.
On the banks of reflection,
chanting with intention,
thoughts and suffering are carried
to the sea.
Sorrow is a poignant partner
but in the end:
ashes in the stream.
On a Silver Plate
I placed a rose on your pillow
the morning of our wedding day.
You wore it in your hair as we walked through redwoods,
wending our way,
fan-fared with a soft intertwining
of cello and flute
into our community
of love and friendship.
We have taken up
the winding thread of notes,
learning to listen,
to pull back
for greater harmony.
Keys for opening,
Strings for bonding;
Modulating and augmenting
suspended chords
caressing the silence
with intimate appreciation.
The Mantle of Hope
​
Playing it safe
may preserve an iota
of security, yet, at a time
when the carpet is being
pried and stolen from under our feet,
is it not time to return to the sandbox of risk;
to surprise ourselves as active ingredients
within mysteries of diversity?
Overwhelmed by injustice,
let’s take up the mantle of hope.
Perhaps the very core of the Earth
will come to our aid
in the hour of our collective need.
The Through Line
Does conjuring your
face before you were born
allow for
a deeper breath,
a calmer presence?
When we are gone,
which pictures
will have contained our peace?
Allowing the through line
to catch the light,
just so –
invites us to remember
time as a satellite in our sky.
​
The Avalanche
I used to ponder how
people in heaven could
be at their ease
knowing others were
being tormented,
just out of sight.
Yet, here we are,
fortunate enough
to be exchanging ideas
while others are
taken in broad daylight...
​
What is the remedy?
Actively caring
for one another
as the avalanche
gains momentum?