Even your body brought us peace.
Your arms, always open,
finally at your sides,
your mouth in a loving, sardonic curve,
your brilliant eyes veiled.
We couldn’t see your legs:
the braces were gone, but we knew
you walked until you died.
That huge heart of yours was still:
but some pulse united us, the living,
and brought us to your side.
Each sobbed, each comforted,
each stood by the box that held you,
each touched, each felt the cold.
Six blood red roses
we placed athwart the Star of David.
Amidst the tears, a woman’s voice:
“I knew this day would come,
but I wasn’t ready yet.”
A child’s voice, softer:
“Before, everybody was close,
but now we’ll be even closer.”
Then we could all go back
to the home you made for us.