Arise and bear witness
to the Tree of Life,
the Synagogue of Slaughter.
Awaken your computer,
turn on your TV.
Hear with your own ears
the thunder of
attack rifle and hand gun.
See with your own eyes
the blood -soaked rooms
where bullets silenced Shabbat prayer
and lifeless bodies lie like battered islands
in a tsunami of hatred.
Bear witness to
America’s Kishniev –
Pittsburgh’s pogrom,
where one man’s weapons
accomplished in minutes
what over a century ago
crazed Russian mobs
enacted in days.
View eleven stars
erected on the street,
each for a fallen
celestial child of Abraham.
Witness the candles,
crowded streets sobbing in song.
And how to go forward
after songs no longer heard,
guitars no longer strummed,
candles no longer lit,
burials completed,
shivas done?
Return to subways, to cars
and commute to shattered ideals?
Dance through life
in a masquerade of normality?
Not everything crooked
can be straightened.
Germs of hate,
are never eradicated.
They lie dormant
in homes,
basements,
attics,
storage sheds,
waiting for new tsars
to release them
on the unsuspecting.
Straighten only what can be made straight.
Let vigilance be our credo.
But guards at doors are not enough.
Memories will be a shield,
spirit and hope a fortress.
And next Yom Kippur,
when recalling our martyrdom,
include Pittsburgh.