a community mourns.
But what redeems the loss?

Eight Words of praise
carved by the wind of time
by years of human loss

the Kaddish stone stands
on the hill asking
the mourner to also stand

always on the hill
crafted to mend broken hearts
uplift fragmented spirits

its rhythm anchor
ships tossed at

Each syllable adds the needed weight
to moor each boat to shore.

— Abraham Menashe
© 2017