Kaddish Poem

What unnumbered griefs we carry
in our numbered hearts—

unuttered sigh, the whispers
of songless sparrows.

“The deeper the sorrow
the less tongue we have,”
the Talmud says.

Tongue-tied, heart-stung, our deepest griefs
bury themselves alive
in the tombs of our former selves.
Only the welcome lament liberates them.

Let my words be to you
like the green earth cherishing.
Let this song sew up
the tattered seams of your soul.

And know, as you bathe
the body of your beloved
with bowls of rain water,
you wash her
with the very tears of God.

– PAMELA LEE CRANSTON