The poems in this post are part of a special section, curated by Ori Z Soltes and Robert Bettmann, The Jewish Experience.
Absence
My people have aged prematurely
Our bowed heads are peppered with
Grey and white hairs.
Grey,
A mixture of ashes
and gunpowder.
White,
like body bags
and prayer shawls.
Even our children have aged
And who can blame them?
Our entire nation is grieving.
For those who went to dance
and lost
their legs,
their lives,
For the holocaust survivors
murdered
alongside the unborn .
For the thousands slain in cold blood.
For the hostages-
for the unspeakable things done to them.
Our graying hair is a small price to pay
for the unbearable weight
of their absence.
Cain and Abel
Don’t imagine the scene-
two brothers,
one with a rock,
battering,
searching.
Don’t look for the blood,
The ground is weeping,
The supple earth crusted.
Can you feel his eyes,
Racing
feverish and wild-
Does regret soften finality?
Cain’s shaking hands,
Gather his brother’s
Dried blood.
He paints
his forehead
with a
bloody
Letter.
The ugly mark
is not just for Cain.
Cursed-
he can never forget
Remember,
We each harbor monsters.
We sharpen jagged rocks.
Who has not drunk the poison?
But there was a moment,
long enough to hold one’s breath,
where everything could have
changed.
Imagine Abel whole,
Imagine him raising children,
imagine Cain and Abel
growing old.
Rachel Feld-Reichner received her MFA in Creative Writing for Children and Young Adults from VCFA. Poetry was her first love and though she writes across genres she always circles back to poetry. Her poems have been published in English and Hebrew. When she is not writing she works as a doula and women’s health advocate while raising her beautiful boys.
Featured image in this post: Jacopo Tintoretto – The Murder of Abel – WGA22654, Jacopo Tintoretto, creative commons via wikimedia commons.
