By Joseph Fleischman

Before Bibi mourned before three slain teens,
our sunken hearts already melted in unmatched achdus*
and immersed in grief,
a moment almost lost in one eyelash of time emerged for me.
I imagined an angel by his side,
I imagined two, one in front, the other behind;
that one was Silent Splendor but the one in front just beyond the thin veil of the
profane where with even the sound of one’s voice and the thoughts in one’s brain
a world can change,
and spinning on this momentary level plane
flattened by the news – they’re dead.

Crying, proclaiming, pleading, ‘Charity, fasting, prayer we know not what to do!
Recall not our sins before You. How forward in this dilemma?
Which way? We implore.
We are in an impenetrable struggle, we plead and we beg,
our souls are sore.

‘Our present and our future are fused as one.
Now is the time, if only to reach, do it now.
Olam haZeh and Olam haBau**.
Grab this moment, don’t let it pass. We are not alone, she beseeched,
nor abandoned in this time of need.
I, who am nosain ol b’chaveiro***, am with you to help carry the load,
to move in this cloud where your way cannot be seen,
a path to connection, a road to redeem.’

‘Do it first in the name of Hashem,
for the sake of the Form in which all are created and because form likes form the
result can only be good.
Tikkun, tikkun, tikkun. Before the din of survival and the dogs of war set in
and the fires of hatred destroy every way as all descend deep into the pit.’
And then she was gone, glinting and sparking as she left
but Silence remained.

*unity
**this world, the world to come
***sharing the burden of a yoke with a friend

Joseph L. Fleischman of New Haven is the author of The Village of S’fat, a collection of poetry.

Readers are invited to submit original work on a topic of their choosing to Kolot. Submissions should be sent to judiej@jewishledger.com.