Photo: Sarah Pritzker
Srigim, Israel
17 November, 2023
No need to utter a sound.
Is the groan
Of each fibre
As a single drop
Soaks
The fabric of a shirt
Not enough?
Nor dislodge a whimper
Because I can hear your tears
Like an echo off the sides of a metal box
Resound from your heart,
And the empty spaces
Around the table
And in her bed
They are like
The sound of no music
And the clatter of an empty sink of dishes
The bottle of conditioner
With its last few drops,
Eternally unshaken
And your smile –
Ever so subtle –
Of relief, I hear
Turning icy tears to tepid
Because, thank God,
She is safe now
* There is a well-known photograph of Adi Marciano, Noa’s mother, sobbing into a shirt she had printed with Noa’s picture on it, once she found out that Noa had been killed and was not coming home. To date, I have not had permission from the photographer to display the photo.
