Yizkor, 5779 – Danielle Resh

Today
you are
just a touch
away—

as close as a finger
skimming the surface
of the water—

only a thin film
separating us,
just a ripple
in between.

Today
your warmth
wraps the air
around my shoulders
like a blanket,

covers me like
the wings of a tallis
as we huddle before
the ark.

Your voice
envelops me,
like the warm water
of the first immersion.

Today
your hearty laugh
echoes

just a few
dimensions
removed—

the way
a conch shell
echoes the
ocean—

pressed up
against
my ear,

I hear it
encased.

Today
your encompassing
stomach
against my
frail body

is not a memory
but a sense
only suddenly
dissipated.

Your chapped lips
damp against my hand,
your crackled whispers—
“my beauty”— and toothy smile
near-realities,

just a few molecules
un-configured
in the space.

Today
compresses
the space—

we are angels
floating on empty
stomachs,

chorused voices
rising on repeating
words,

ascending with
the melodies

so close

you live
on high—

I reach
just a handbreadth
further

up.

 

After graduating from the University of Texas at Austin with degrees in English and Jewish Studies, Danielle Resh returned to Houston, Texas to teach creative writing and reading to pre-K-12th grade students. She is an avid writer of poetry and short stories and is currently seeking publication for her magical realism novel set in 1800s Poland.

2 thoughts on “Yizkor, 5779 – Danielle Resh

  1. Alan Sugar

    Thank you for this remarkably masterful poem. It is like one all embracing breath. I want to go back and read it once more— as if in anticipation of another life yet to evolve. All the best to you. And, of course, continue to share your intimate immensity of words!

    Reply

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