Hope & Lamentation

A Poem (Contains: Miscarriage)

Grief for what I cannot possibly remember.

Mourning for an ancient house I’ve never seen.

A loss – loved and unknown as the baby gone

well before its time count here began, now pulsing

like a phantom limb inside me each December. But

on these days of summer sorrow, I feel the Place of G-d

in which I never had the chance to pray.

Morning comes and the fox darts red again

across our lawn made brittle by the mid-Av sun.

The deer freeze – afraid, unsure. But I, safe

behind the kitchen window, lean towards

the modern twin of the fox Rabbi Akiva eyed

among the Temple ashes. I hold that faith tight

against my chest while my breath catches on a Psalm.

Shhh, shhh. It will all be okay, I whisper,

though I cannot say to whom or if I mean

it as a question. Either way, it’s an exhausted plea

for our redemption.