By David Wolpe
From the 1977 Keidan Yizkor Book.
Nineteen forty-one. May In Lithuania the sun is molten with red lead Father says, with sadness in his face, that Mother, unfortunately, is lying in hospital I waited not a tiny moment, but quickly strode away there on foot. The sight of Mother's face pierced my heart And her hair a white-hot burning fright Disheveled like a sick bird, weak She managed to punch a hole in me. Brightly shone her childlike blue gaze Shining for that sunlit hour "Dovidl" ... her voice whispered I did not know it would be the last time "Mamaleh" I said the word In my bones the sound echoed I stood beside Mother's bed I still feel her last stirring A kiss. She asked me for nothing more And that tragic image stayed with me on my journey It has stayed in my eye, frozen and will not let my heart rest.
Translated by A. Cassel