Twin heads of copper hair
blindingly bright like
sun-fires in the
very eyes of God
that bore a hole
through the conscience
of an indifferent world.
The heart of a nation
beat hard and fast,
was pierced, and bled
on tenterhooks of
the oldest hate
playing out again,
a familiar rhythm set
to unendurable time.
Your babbling baby mirth
told a story of your worth
but you are not
the only ones,
nor the first,
nor the last,
nor even the
most unimaginable
to fall by the
malevolent hands
of an evil creed
of a demon seed.
The lions roar
through your names
we hear that call
we hold you high
above our heads
in that space
between Man and God
and we sing, loud, strong
with the lions,
maybe, even,
above the lions,
“B’ezrat Hashem”
“B’ezrat Hashem.”
