He was a big man with
big hands
That was all Sarah could remember
about Papa
........................................................................................
When they arrived at Ellis Island
he called her and Mama
"little greenhorns"
Sarah thought it was a term of endearment
.......................................................................................
She wore her bruises
like her daughter would one day wear
Girl Scout badges
She had a story for each:
The time she spilled her milk and broke the glass
The time she spoke Yiddish instead of English to Papa
The time she let the ice block melt
on her way home from the iceman
There were many more
.........................................................................................
Papa called Mama a fat cow
When Mama wouldn't stop crying
he hit her-hard
Sarah hid in the closet
hands over her ears
...........................................................................................
Mama lost the baby
Sarah didn't understand
but vowed to find it
Maybe then, Papa would smile
and Mama would stop crying
But Papa slapped her across the face
and Mama cried even harder
..........................................................................................
Every Friday night
Sarah says the berakah over the candles
The golden candlesticks,
the only possession they were able to bring to America,
remind her of Mama
Tarnished by the years yet
still strong,
still valuable.
submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Open Link Monday
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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen
6 comments:
… you labeled it "mostly true". And it reads as if it is - powerful.
oh great sigh. love your attention to detail here, and the naming, and really everything about this. except for the pain experienced by all, most especially the child. very well done, dear LM.
I find it difficult to comment on a piece of writing that moves the heart on such a deep level - of understanding and sympathy. Thank you for sharing this story.
How deeply moving ~ How sad for her to witness such a tragedy in the family and bear the bruises ~
Heartbreakingly real, Ms Mouse.
K
This is the best kind of writing, LM--unsparing of truth and up front with the reader, yet full of the light that a careful eye can find in the darkest places. Also stopped by to say thanks for all your support over the years for my own efforts as well.
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