blackness

The glistening sunlight reflected from the copper piping as we cower in fear
from the gust of the swung open door
and the dark squeak of the black leather German boots above the floor boards
Why do God’s own, God’s chosen cower in fear?
Where is our Moses?
Where is our Gideon?
Where is our Samson?
Where is our David?

“Where are you hiding them?” asks the third pair of boots as the foot drops
rattling the pots and pans hanging above the stove plate
“Where are your Jews?” asks the black leather glove, briskly up-turning the family table
smashing the ceramic that has been in the family for generations
the bowl that their young great-grandmother was given on her wedding day.

“Where are your Jews?”

Where is our God?
Where is the God of Adam, of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?

“Where are your Jews?” as the back hand of black leather glove grazes
the face of the father of the family.

“Tell us and we will let you live”

“Don’t tell us and we will shoot you with them”

“We’ll burn you together”

“Where are they?”

Where is our God?



there
in the upper corner at the far left one foot below the floor boards
where the copper piping
goes back into the blackness
and keeps going further and further

where no man can see its depths
or its length