The Name

For the first time, ever,

I forced my lips to be silent

Upon meeting their daily bread.

No bracha departed from their

Opening.

Instead, I forced myself to think about the creative impulse

And whether it was evidence enough

That you are-

That you exist.

But surely the survival of an orphan

In a distant land

With a single suitcase-

Surely that, is enough to suffice my demand for hard facts.

Perhaps my yearnings,

My quest for pure truth,

Means the wind is changing.

We need you right here, sitting quietly beside us,

Proof that we have not suffered centuries in vain.

We need you here, or we need you not to exist.