Bar Mitzvah

by | Oct 5, 2021 | Issue Twenty Three, Poetry

The day my father lost his voice speaking Hebrew,

no one laughed,

silence like a foundation,

airy as the firmament. This day he was born,

he was made

to choose his mother,

accept the father letting go: Blessed is He

who has now freed me

from the responsibility

of this boy. The day my father became a father,

his words wouldn’t come,

only the breath he held

in his hands, words behind his face,

his mouth swaying

forward and back

as if caught: Protect my child from me.

My secret wish

to make him over

in my image and illusions.

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