Shalom Aleichem

The end of the veil felt like

the net curtains in

our sitting room.

I held it tight in my sweaty hands,

Don’t drop it, they had said.

Where she walked, I followed.

Through the chanting prayers

I heard our mother cry,

Sniffling into her new lace hankie.

That puzzled me.

Such a happy day

she had said that morning.

After they had drunk the wine,

he smashed the glass.

On purpose.

That’s why she was crying,

She always cried

When Dad did that.