October 27, 2020 § 2 Comments
For the first time, ever,
I forced my lips to be silent
Upon meeting their daily bread.
No bracha departed from their
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.