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.
Jared Beloff is a teacher and poet who lives in Queens, NY with his wife and two daughters. You can find his work in Contrary Magazine, Rise Up Review, The Shore and elsewhere. You can find him online at www.jaredbeloff.com. Follow him on twitter @read_instead.