Yom HaShoah

 Not even a whirlwind
 Could un-light this memorial
 Lists of lists of lists of lists of lists of lists 
 Names on a roster
 Names on a wall
 Names in the notebook
 Read one by one
 Their place of birth 
 Their age, if known

 Their mothers and fathers
 who named them 
 who cherished their 
 ever being

 Their names slip from the list
 to my lips and they are the flame
 the uprising
 the hope
 of the forgotten

 Not even a whirlwind cyclone of 
 hate sprayed
 fear epidemics
 could un-light these flames

 Lists of lists of names of names
 They were two, just walking
 They were fourteen and alive
 They were you
 They were us
 They were three, full of language
 They were six, reading books
 They were babies in arms
 They were ten, all in giggles
 They were eight. 
 They were eight, 
 like my son

 A light for these children
 A light for these mothers
 A light for these fathers
 A light for the unnamed
 A light for the grievers
 A light for survivors
 A light for the saviors
 A light for the haters and healers and uprisers
 A light for the life we all might have known

 Had these children grown 
 and delighted our senses

 Would I have been born
 My family tree broken
 With hidings and lyings 
 and ship born disguises
  if not for the failure
 to eradicate all?
 We are immigrants, 
 all. 

 Could I announce them now? 
 Announcing and pronouncing them
 lists of lists of lists of lists of names and names
 I could read them and say them
 Announcing diplomas
 Merit deserved
 A spotlight on stage
 A marriage vow
 A piano recital
 A honorary guest at our table 
 tonight. 
 A whirlwind can never blow out
 this light. 
 

 S. R. L. 5/02/19