A generation after the Holocaust
and I know no Hebrew. No Yiddish. No Torah.
I fast only on the Day of Atonement
and even then I’ve been known to cheat.
A generation after the Holocaust
and I apologize for my grandfather’s
bent back and wild gestures.
I used to tremble to the rhythm
of his prayers. I feared the mysterious
words that kept us from the devil.
Now, from my window I watch Nazis march.
Their feet strike the pavement
like the ticking of a clock….
Sunday Sayings: Extract from Richard Michelson’s “The Jews that we are” and this photo of the locked gate as redolent metaphor
PoetryPix 