" Yom Hashoah (Day of Remembrance) "
They are dying.
Day by day they take
their memories with them.
Second hand
third hand
stories fade until the truth
confuses itself with drama.
Yis'ga'dal v'yis'kadash sh'may ra'bbo
The last tattoo
blurs beyond recognition
and soon no one will rise from his wheelchair
to say in a quivering voice,
"I remember".
No one will unfold
a tattered yellow star
and weep because
she has no other mementos
of an obliterated life.
b'olmo dee'vro chir'usay v'yamlich malchu'say
I am the child
of prosperity,
the dream fulfilled, the streets I travel
paved in opportunity. I have
letters after my name
a portable computer--
magical talismans
for this modern age.
b'chayaychon uv'yomay'chon uv'chayay d'chol bais Yisroel,
My babies
were conceived in safety
born in safety
raised in safety.
So why do my hands shake
when I light this candle?
ba'agolo u'viz'man koriv; v'imru Omein
My parents are alive and well,
retired to palm trees and golf courses.
Their ancestors
lie easily in their graves
in Staten Island and New Jersey
A local congregation
gathers for minyon in a Newton church.
Our next door neighbors
eat latkes and hang Christmas lights. No one
glances twice at my last name.
Y'hay shmay rabbo m'vorach l'olam ul'olmay olmayo. Yisborach v'yishtabach v'yispoar v'yisromam v'yismasay, v'yishador v'yis'aleh v'yisalal, shmay d'kudsho, brich hu,
When I am alone,
I turn on a light in every room. I fear
the shadow of my fear,
the images I conjure
in darkness. I hear
echoes of broken glass
feel the heat of hatred on my face.
l'aylo min kl birchoso v'sheeroso, tush'bechoso v'nechemoso, da,ameeran b'olmo; vimru Omein.
I recite kaddish every day
but the dead pile faster and faster,
more fuel for the pyre.
Y'hay shlomo rabbo min sh'mayo, v'chayim alaynu v'al kol Yisroel; v'imru Omein. Oseh sholom bimromov, hu ya'aseh sholom olaynu, v'al kol yisroel; vimru Omein.
© 2003 Lisa Janice Cohen
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