HIS GRIEVING VOICE FROM THE LAST PAGE
BY NATALIA ZARETSKY

           On a theme from Loves of Judith by Meir Shalev

A prayer like a shawl wraps and
cradles his rocking shoulders
within his meditative space, where
leafy words of Kadish rustle downward.

Everything grows older --
he -- with his stooped posture,
children, gone to their own world,
his armchair with its worn armrests,

but not she -- she was his home, his breath
from their first kiss under the acacia
in the seashore city park to her last sigh --
as if his heavy tears had tired her.

Kadish, Kadish, Kadish.
He can shut his eyes, but how to close
his ears to his own lamentations?

Through years things became smoother
from her touch, and in the empty house he
would feel their softness to the end of his time.

Kadish, Kadish, Kadish.