We go on living on the earth
that has taken our blood to quench its thirst.
There is a green spring coming—
our bones have been ground up into ash;
we go on living, a few left to say Kaddish.
We eat the bread of the wheat fields,
drink from a well these days.
The sun is very kind now–
she touches us with her rays.
We pass, leading our children by the hand–
wrecked homes, wrecked walls that mournfully stand.
We pass dead islands of childhood years.
Free as a bird the wind careers.
We go on living. The snow begins to fall.
We meet white trees, yes, we see them one and all.
Eyes dark, we drink the dusk; and without words
we speak–to little gray birds.
(Rajzel Zychlinsky)
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Based on Topics: Nature Poems, Birds Poems, Work & Career Poems, Snow Poems, Leading & Managing Poems, Childhood PoemsBased on Keywords: kaddish