I’m alright, it’s never alright; these contradictions from when the world burned blue. But when I was in the corridor of the red lined fire, lies about filtered out unseen sun for the grey guided smoke upon us in our coughed up air, I caught the wind of G-d that only unifies in silence. What was I breathing in there? Could G-d be in that eternal dark that was lit each day in the boneless valley of no homes? We were what goes on beneath the ground in a cemetery. Whose heart belonged inside whom? Did this guard man father allow his boys to breathe in my brothers’ last breath’s ash? Did the first plant know that my mother gave her breasts to each child’s dying likeness of G-d? Imi and David and mother herself breathed their spirit into G-d’s iron lung. They were in a sealed garden. And there was the Divine vine of life. I visited but did not stay in that feld. I went up to breathe the G-d lingering air. I slowly put on their silence again. We wore our soldier uniforms that told us that we were the reason of this war; I can imagine my eyes, and then faces asleep, eyelids lidded to silent drop. What use were mirrors to the all alone? What can I do with memory? So I was one of you once when the war wore us from other lands; but Joseph’s pit went under our house and you can have it back, you can have it back but blacker.
I wonder what happened to my synagogue’s house. I have met the son of the Rabbi and my son touched the ghosts of the Cantor of Sarvar. I have met the curator of the Jews of my town. And the parks where I played that I hoped I would never return to. I came out to the world through poison. This is the Knowledge I have brought – the power and evil that sleeps before You. Once I was in love. And You were the bringer of delights to me. I would wait for You because You brought my father home to my eyes. But then he wouldn’t return until I came up to his house two years later. And then I left and wouldn’t go back, you can’t have it back; you have seen the knowledge in the tree in the courtyard. G-d, You have lowered Your Eyes on all of this. And these were Your instruments of war that cannot redeem Your Place O, Creator of the Dark. I’m right, I’m never right.