Kaddish for the lonely, the dead ones walking
in the streets. Kaddish for the hungry, the
sick, the stranded. Kaddish for the ruined, with
open sores. Kaddish for the aged, with empty laps.
Kaddish for the young, the sick, the weak. Kaddish for
the fortunate, though in death no one is fortunate.
Kaddish for our fathers, our mothers, our
sisters and grandmothers. Kaddish for the restless, the
needy, the brave. And Kaddish, too, for you
my love, whom I will never let go.
Not after they haul you to the cemetery.
Not after a hundred nights of weeping.
Not after I shed these black clothes, all of
these clothes, and stand here naked, my
wrinkled skin a roadmap of where you have been,
where you might have been more often.

Manya is a Jewish-Indian-American poet currently living in Sweden. She holds a PhD in mathematics education from UC Berkeley. Earlier in her life she studied poetry with A. K. Ramanujan at the University of Chicago. Manya has published in Mathematical Intelligencer, Philosophia Mathematica, and Dagens Nyheter, the national newspaper of Sweden.