Sometimes when flashbacks overwhelmed,
you’d sit and hold your patient’s hands
while his great tears fell
from blind and milky eyes,
his body wracked with sobs
You prayed what Hebrew prayers you knew
into his barely hearing ears
Once the young rabbi came,
and taking him into his arms sang the old and healing songs
until his elder cried aloud with joy, you’re Jewish!
Later his repeated cries are only of hello and water
You will guide the straw to his mouth
tattooed number on his arm blurring
before tears that you try not to let fall
You never told him you are also
from a holocausted people
You will never forget him
The way he used to say You’re beautiful!
The way you’d say with laughter You’re blind!
The way his quick kisses on your hand marked you indelibly with song