My mother looks at me with bloodied
eyes, out of a cloud;
Daughter, bind up my wounds.
Her gray head is bowed.
Amid the leaves of each green tree
my sister moans.
My little daughter, where is she?
Rajzel, gather her bones.
My brother swims in the waters–
days, weeks, years–
dragged forward by the river,
flung back by the seas.
My neighbor wakes me in the night;
he makes a woeful sound;
Take me down from the gallows–
put me in the ground.
May. With my son in my arms I wander
amid shadows. I greet them all.
So many severed lives are clinging
to me, to my corners, to my walls.
So many severed lives are trembling
on the long lashes of my son.
So many severed lives are sobbing
in May, when the spring winds come.
(Rajzel Zychlinsky)
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Based on Topics: Night Poems, Sons Poems, Spring Poems, Daughters PoemsBased on Keywords: bloodied