Sighing, my great-grandmother would have turned to her loaf And pulled off a proper measure of kneaded dough, Reciting .....commanded us to separate the hallah... Heaved the chunk, not too much, into the flames, When her neighbor ran into the kitchen breathless To report the news just now arrived that in some village Distant not too far they killed some Jews. Master of the Universe, we beg you again, please Dear God, Tatele, please, hold off the brigands, Protect us, keep safe my husband as he labors and My boys at cheder and my girls, my sweet precious babies, As they sweep the house and run their errands. Keep the goyim away, return us forgive us bring us back From our exile to our land and turn away the Angel of Death. My great-grandmother would whisper prayers her mother Whispered with her in the dark hours of crouched hidings When enemies unrestrained strolled their little village streets; Master of all Creation, dear God, Tatele, why why can’t you End our exile? Have we not endured with love your service To repaid our ancestors sins? Tatele, Tatele, I plead Let this time pass with no harm, amen, amen.
Written some time back, but my reflection on what has happened now, and what happened back then. May He Who Creates fullness of being (shalom) in the heavens so create on the earth.
Amen. May it be His will.