Eikha-Ayekha
in the beginning, we heard אַיֶּֽכָּה / Ayeka: Where are you?
for millennia, we have cried אֵיכָה/Eikha: How?
This we know:
the repetition of these letters makes
words so connected
that our legs
fold beneath us
as we sit
in dark places,
floored,
hearts aching
without answers.
Wavering candlelight
illuminates our lament;
no amount of tears can quench a world ablaze,
ancient destruction passed to every generation,
new stories as old
as our ancestors’ greatest fears,
as their wildest dreams, we
are here now
learning again that hatred
is more than memory
