Smoke Signals From Sinai
“Fargess mich nit”
you whispered.
having approached me
with your broad shoulders
in the September of my years
with an extended arm urging me to get up.
Only through the windows of others
memories, have I seen your
youthful glint and commish smile.
Soft words lipped in stone
“Meg ikh habn dem tantzn?”
you ask, and gather me onto the spindle
intertwining with threads of
loss, struggle, pain
step-ball-change.
I dance with my feet in the stars,
as you help me up,
onto the shoulders of giants.