THE UNVEILING
On the first anniversary of my mother’s death
I find myself in the middle of New Mexico
the day late, and a prayer short
I stop my Catholic nun friend, now
married and converted Jewish
and tell her of my plight
Also the hope that she
or her husband might have
some words to fit the occasion
The answer is yes, the word is Kaddish
and they are meeting with the Rabbi
to arrange the Friday Shabat supper
Myself, Dorsey, Paul, Maryrita and Dan
now five, the number of her children
sit in circle in the hotel lobby
Paul is a new Rabbi and a very sweet man
he forgets some of the words, Dan helps
I say “her Hebrew isn’t that good,
I don’t think she’ll mind”
I am touched that the prayer is of praise
and not of mourning, and the idea
that whatever good I might do,
my brothers and sisters too,
are her gifts to the world
This may be a poem about salt
there is something about salt
and her gift from our eyes
as we share