Monday, August 3, 2009

missing you

the stones told the story
born in . . . died in . . .
a name
in Hebrew
in English
dates in both
but I only knew you
from stories
and old photos
immigrants to America
modestly dressed
in old-fashioned clothes
my bubbe
my zayde
gone before I made
my appearance in 1946

what would have changed
had I known you?
maybe I would be
more observant
more in tune with ritual
but I’m confortable
with my faith as is

yet I feel the lack
the emptiness inside
from that missed connection
when I hear Yiddish
or old Jewish melodies
I think about you
and realize that my mother
was a role model for me
as bubbe to my children
since I never knew my grandparents
so I cook
I teach
I listen
I tell stories
and I pass on the love
that I missed
but still have inside to give

draft copyright 2009 Linda H. Feinberg

On electronic retreat this week. No more blog entries this week.

1 comment:

Jeanne said...

simply beautiful and touching Linda, wonderful pacing to this poem. thanks for sharing.
Your drawing is really good, try scanning and leave out the rocks and play with some color. I actually like the rocks, they seem to ground the image. Love, Jeanne