top of page
Yahrzeit
There are those on whom grief lies
like cold stones in a cemetery
women and men in streets, on buses
gray, drab, holding their burdens close,
year after year,
worn before their time
Who will never love again
or try another time
telling themselves; this stone is mine
let no other disturb it
Tradition has us unveil stones
after a month and revisit them
once a year – on Yahrzeit
we stand beside
the stones and remember.
On this day each
may place his flower
his own small stone
on the grave
and move on
There are some
who dare to reach out
to touch another thinking
my hand is a flower
from under earth’s blanket
that can brighten drab stone
when spring comes
The flowers know that
only those who have suffered
winter’s cold are granted
to grow between the stones
© Johnmichael Simon
2007
.
bottom of page