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Poem

We drink to Life. L'chaim. Summer smiles
In Leah's eyes, June sunlight gently glowing.
The glass waits on the earth, bowl, base, and stem 
Remembering. Then, shards beneath 
My foot. Then, Mazel tov, the guests all cry. 
God send you many sons. Then, fields of stars, 
Sweet Heaven's blossoms, blessings from the night. 
Eyes, lips, and fingers feed and taste delight.   
One soul. Two bodies. Her great gift to me. 
My dearest Leah. Look at me again.

Wild November wind.  Summer's flowers, dust.
A crystal night. Tears, rain, sharp broken glass, 
And terror in the dark. Some dogs have caught 
Their quarry. Then, one barks:  Ein jüdische Ratte.
I stare out through the crack. That ghetto street.
That starless sky. Whose son lies there, 
Sweet body broken by strong blows and boots? 
Inside, our other children cry. We hide 
Beneath the floor. And, Leah looks at me.

Winter station. Waiting. All to separate trains.
One final look from Leah: blind despair.
Three days. No food. No water. Pressed to death. 
God's chosen people dying, standing there.
A stop. A silence. Sudden searing light 
Like Hell erupting in sick poisonous flames. 
I step out, blindly. Stumble. Glasses fall. 
A soldier, looking like my son. Nicht Gold, he sneers.
Grinds slowly on the twisted broken things
As if to show he'll break me, too. He won't.

You doubt my story, boy? God gave you eyes.
These numbers on my arm cry who I am,
And who I was back then, when worlds were lost.
They wake me from my summer dreams and thoughts,
To weep for Leah, 
For my sons,
For broken glass, 
And love reduced to shards.

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