Yizkor

In the second of three poems, Bruce Black reflects on Jewish prayer.

Under the folds of my prayer shawl that I drape over my head before beginning to pray, I greet my parents, my grandparents, my uncles and aunts, imagining each embracing me again, holding me in their arms. Under the folds of my prayer shawl I can feel my body pressing against theirs, and theirs against mine, can feel the warmth and love they gave to me before they left this world, and for a moment, just a moment, my world is full again, no longer empty or out of balance. Under the folds of my prayer shawl I thank each one for returning to help me pray, and hug each one as if they stand with me beneath my prayer shawl, and I feel their kisses and see their smiles one more time before I lift the folds of my prayer shawl off my head and begin to pray for their souls and my own.