1.
She called me by name.
ÒHere I am,Ó
I responded automatically.
I scrutinized her face,
looked for a key, a connection
from my wandering past.
But old age
stood between us,
and like two little children,
we played hide-and-seek.
2.
ÒHow old was he?Ó
the oldest whispered among themselves.
ÒA hundred and two or three,
or something in between.Ó
WhatÕs the difference?
At the fresh grave now,
set up the scale,
the final summation
of thoughts and deeds.
Years have no meaning.
Time has grown stale
in its eternity.
3.
In the closed casket
with its blue-white cover,
the corpse listens to
the eulogy.
ÒI could swear
theyÕre talking about me,
but such empty words—
endless flowery talk.
ÒThat person there—
how does he come to be here ?
I washed my hands of him
decades ago, if not even longer.
ÒAnd she, the woman with the hat?
I asked her to support
a book of mine in Yiddish
and she was silent.
So why has she
found her tongue now?
ÒPeople!
donÕt act the fools—
donÕt shame my old age.
Is everything really lost,
even truth too?Ó
ÒBlessed be Thy truth.Ó
4.
Written in the book
with invisible ink,
with silent words,
under lock and key,
from beginning to end,
is my destiny.
And on a Heavenly platter,
a gift of good fortune,
tra-la-la, tri-li—
free will!
5.
If I knew
that my time was coming to an end now,
would I, more than now,
measure,
compare,
arrange
the choice
between yes and no?
Blessed am I
that I donÕt know.
6.
A son and a sun,
a ÒheÓ and a Òshe,Ó
at the open grave
a tear and a glow.
He stands,
looks down
at the bottom of the pit.
She too looks down
from Heaven
at this hour.
The severing of his chain
pains him.
She warms him
with her radiance.
A son and a sun,
a ÒheÓ and a Òshe,Ó
at the open grave
a tear and a glow.
7.
The cold of the grave,
wailing winds--
dreams float by
and disappear.
Headlights flicker
in the darkness of the night.
In the most Heavenly depths,
a primeval glow appears,
and in the growing fire
a new day is born.
Thank you, dear God.