(after Dara Horn)

I listen to the man’s rambling voice
and recognize, as if from my own
memories, the arches, the columns,
the alcove for the Torah scrolls, the water
in the ritual bath. It is like hearing someone
recount the elaborate details of a dream
in which I meet a beloved dead relative.

The past is alive, trembling within
the present; we are always walking on the dead.
It is difficult these days not to sense
an encroaching darkness. I lean toward
those glowing sparks, looking for more light.

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/diarna-jewish-sites-not-seen-generations-visit-from-home-180974875/