Author: Pessie (Sherry) Horowitz


My grandparents left me Emunah Beyond their rheumy gazes And their nightmarish dreams Was a stillness —


Before we light the Shabbos candles, she puts my hair up into a braid: She pulls the chestnut sections tight, tugs the young strands out:

Tattoo #A6295

Grandfather’s passing was a whisper— a final billowing and undulating sigh that drew over our heads curled in our nostrils heady and suffocating mist of ash. He lived a muted life; but not for loss of words. He was penitent; as if the sound of his voice would rouse...