A Flicker of Hope
By Dr. Hope Blecher
As I write this, poetry or prose, I am not sure which it will become, I have a realization.
Tonight, as I light these Shabbat candles, there will be three, shalosh.
This Shabbat is the first Shabbat of the month of November.
In one week, Sabbath will coincide with Kristallnacht.
— —
That, Kristallnacht, that I heard about a little bit over a year ago.
As a child, I had read about The Night of Broken Glass.
Over the years, there have been photos, too.
Just over a year ago, something happened.
I heard about it from one who was there.
I heard about it again from someone.
I heard about it from a witness,
From a survivor.
— —
That voice which breathed life into what was horrific.
That voice spoke words that drew an image.
That voice of an aged woman.
That voice of a child.
It was heard.
— —
It was heard.
It cannot be unheard.
It was seen.
It cannot be unseen.
— —
Child,
Witness,
Survivor,
Three words from then
They occur again.
— —
When I held my first child,
I prayed.
When I held my last child,
I prayed.
— —
One girl,
One boy,
Bringing joy.
— —
What did I pray,
Is that what you ask?
The words I say,
No longer mine to mask.
— —
I prayed that in their lifetime,
They would not experience war anymore.
I prayed that in their lifetime,
They would have good health.
I prayed that in their lifetime,
They could practice as a Jew.
I prayed that in their lifetime,
They would be safe.
— —
I prayed because at that time,
Holding the infant in my arms,
Holding the child against my beating heart,
It felt like a good way to start.
I was a momma, an ema.
— —
I prayed and kissed the child on her head, her keppie.
I prayed and kissed the child on his head, his keppie.
— —
Now, I pray.
Now, I text,
Now, I call.
— —
Are you okay?
Do you feel safe?
What can I do for you?
— —
Will you wear your Magen Dovid necklace?
Do they know you are Jewish?
Are you worried?
Should you be?
Should I be?
— —
Three decades later,
I know exactly where I was when you turned around.
Two and a half decades later,
I know exactly what that delivery room looks like.
— —
But, now, where are we?
While I can’t deliver you to a promised land,
While the night seems so much darker
And the winds seem so much colder,
And the world seems so much bolder,
What do I hear?
What do I see?
— —
While hope seems frail,
And there is no white dove’s tail,
In my sight,
Day or night,
I can still pray.
— —
I can hope.
I can try.
I will,
I am,
A flicker
of
Hope.
— —
As I have been lost over the past three weeks and unsure how to process and express my confoundings about the war in Israel, yesterday, I found myself listening to some songs. While I did not understand the meanings of the Hebrew words, I hummed and swayed. I recalled being on campus and attending a Safam concert. I looked up the lyrics. Then I went to some record albums and then online. I listened to the soundtrack of The Prince of Egypt and Yentl. Then, I took a breath, closed my eyes, and realized the current date and the one to come. The words flew out and I may have missed one or two, yet, here I am sharing my thoughts with you.
Thank you for taking the time to read these verses. Thank you for respectfully commenting, should you choose to share with me. Thank you for this space to be.