Wednesday, July 5, 2017

The Mourner's Kaddish

Throughout my house are pictures

of who I used to be

of epic, grand adventures

the very best of me.

Visual reminders

of times now brusquely gone

of a woman dead and buried

while I, as yet, live on.

If you can call it living

the ways I spend my days

working at forgiving

counting all the ways

in which I'm bruised and broken

and at whose feet fault lays

reliving and reliving

the prices I have payed.

Throughout my house are pictures

of who I used to be

of epic, grand adventures

the very best of me.

Visual reminders

of times I can't reclaim

of health beyond my reaches

a body without pain.

You can call it living

the ways I spend my days

haunted by the woman

the photographs display.

I know 'twas I helped slew her

but it doesn't help to say

that good intentions yet again

to Hell the road has paved.

Throughout my house are pictures

of who I used to be

memorials to times gone by

epitaphs to me.

The one who walks among you

a hollow shell is she

so speak of her but softly

say

a Kaddish, please, for me.

1 comment:

  1. say
    a Kaddish, please

    didn't the holocast shake your confidence ?

    ReplyDelete