Words without song for Rabbi Ezekiel Taub
Behind a wall of lives
Engraved in stones,
Searching for the homes
They left behind,
The Jews of Kuzhmir find,
Instead, the fissure in my heart.
Listen to their song!
Spun from breathless wind,
Weaving through the trees
In waltz time and sunshine.
It climbs the scales to heaven,
Rising in crescendo to a small
Still point where all is silent—
A rest note held forever.
Birch and pine bough rustling
Amen to a Kaddish never said.
A song without words, a nigun
Without Jews, except those
Whose souls are in the trees.
A song unfinished for the dead.
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
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