My brother, Saul, is gone.
Disappeared in the night.
Our mother is frantic.
A limb has been ripped from her.
“My baby! Did they take him?
Is he in prison?”
She has already answered yes
to both of these questions.
My father corners her.
Moves toward her slowly
with soothing sounds.
“Saul is fine,” my father says.
“He wanted to do something.
He is strong.
He knew the wolves were hungry for
young men who looked like him.
He left to find help.
This was his chance
to do something.
He took it with my blessing.
I know I’m his father but
I couldn’t stop him.
He’s seventeen.
He’s a man.
He didn’t want you to know, Golda, because
he knew you wouldn’t let him go.
Hopefully he will make it to Russia.
Be alive.”
My mother’s relief in Father’s words outweighs
her anger.
But now
she keeps me tethered.
Forewarned is forearmed.