L’dor vador

Nina Teichman

I have never seen

an entire congregation

rise for the mourner’s kaddish.

We have no physical connection

yet we are sitting a worldwide shiva.

Rockets reverberate on bated breath

but the world persists.

My Magen David finds its footing inside my shirt -

knowing it should not be displayed.

My knees are raw from davening.

Is this peril if it is all I’ve ever felt?