A poem inspired by Mitch Pearl’s Havurah Hangout, held on December 17, 2014.

 

And the Angel appeared
after work
chanting her prayers,

 

her speechless words.
Have you seen God
anywhere ? she asked,

 

taking off her coat
of wings.
I read her lips.

 

Do you mean the turkeys eating
stones in the road
or the stones?

 

I said.
She didn’t say anything back.
She flew above my bed.

 

And asked again.
As if she knew the man
I knew, with numbers

 

burned on his arm,
he didn’t do. Who sang
his prayers, as a boy

 

I stood next to.
As if I was standing
in the middle of a road,

 

with stones in my mouth
trying to speak words
God would understand.

 

I had to be told what
those nameless numbers
meant under his choir

 

robes. How he came to still
be here after the work
he sang to them.

 

in the camps.
That stone of a man.
Who barely said anything

 

he couldn’t chant.
Our winged cantor.
The only answer I have

 

for the Angel roosting,
relaxing after a long day
away from us.