Today the sky has no color.
I think that’s because the sun is on our side.
It is protesting what is being done
to the Jews by refusing to shine.
The air is hot, thick, and still.
BANG!
The sound shatters our ears and
our dear friend David lies on the ground.
Too slow.
BANG!
Too old.
BANG!
Rebellious.
BANG!
Sickly.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
This is a new kind of thunder.
People raining on the ground.
We navigate around the fallen.
Pray the soldiers don’t notice Father is sick.
In a lightning flash, Mother’s hand leaves my shoulder
and she and my sister are dragged away.
I hear her crying for us, her two sons,
“My children! Who will care for you? Who will feed you?”
I could not see her, but I knew her voice.
I didn’t know that these would be the last words I ever
heard from my mother.
We are torn asunder
and a new kind of rain
pours from our eyes.