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TEARS FOR MERON poems by Ruth Fogelman, Mindy Aber Barad Golembo, Hayim Abramson, Esther Cameron, Brenda Appelbaum Golani, Leah Leslie Gottesman, Shoshannah Somerville, Alana Schwartz and Gerson Moskowitz, Esther Fein, and Chananya Weissman
Ruth Fogelman A Ghazal in Memory of the Meron Tragedy Lag B’Omer 2021
Am Yisrael went to Mount Meron on the Omer’s thirty-third night.From every corner of the land they came for this joyous night.
They came to pray and celebrate with the music of clarinets and klezmer bands on the Omer’s thirty-third night.
Bonfires’ red and orange flames flew to heaven as the men danced in ecstasy throughout the night.
Three-year-old boys sat astride their fathers’ shoulders for their first hair-cuts on the Omer’s thirty-third night.
Forty-five suddenly slipped, fell and were crushed to death past midnight. Joy ceased and dance turned to mourning on this grief-filled night.
*
Mindy Aber Barad Golembo WE ARE ONE
Hold me Hug me Dance with me Sing Scream Rage.
Swim with me Through the tears And years Through the fires The storms Sands that swirl Clog and cleanse. Let us be together Whatever the metaphor We are one.
*
Hayim Abramson A people of believers
We are people dear to Hashem in tragedy as in good news we cry here and laugh there Am maaminim bne maaminim1 a people of believers children of believers we are attached to each other we suffer when they our people fall likewise, we celebrate together the happy days We pay our personal and social dues as members of a family and society struggle with problems, always unsure and wade through to show our contentment Comes the coldness of winter’s death grip and the warmth of summer’s renewal Aharon accepted in silence his personal tragedy Moshe Rabbenu prayed for rachamim, compassion heartbreak comes and God knows the reasons just as besorot tovot good tidings at their seasons.
_____ 1Believers descendants of believers: Shabbat 97a
*
Esther Cameron MERON
I am not one who feels, beside the graves of holy men, the beat of spirit's wings, nor one of those swelling the thousand-waves of pilgrim souls that for so many springs have lapped the sides of Mount Meron. But once in winter I did visit there, and felt even in my muffled soul something that stirred, which in a halting Hebrew verse I spelt about the rain and rain-like blessings poured down on the mountain for the plains beneath.
I thought of that when we awoke to hear that Rashbi's height had felt the blow of death -- as if our curse of strife not for Heaven's sake had mounted to assail the highest sphere! Could even our leaders sense this, and awake?!
*
Brenda Appelbaum Golani A PSALM FOR THE DEAD OF MERON
Let us go up to the holy mountain To the hill of Meron, the highest mount of the Galilee, to raise our voices, to celebrate the end of the plague, as if we were worthy to be counted among the talmidim of Rabbi Akiva, as measured by our calendar on the 33rd day of our counting of the Omer, a joyous occasion, Suddenly, in the dark hours before the dawn, we fell, on the steep slippery stairs. Death caught us unawares. We were smashed into one another Our cries became whispers, then silence. Like meteors that shine brightly but only for a moment, we fell, we becane stardust, the atoms of our being rose like angels. What are we, that G-d should notice us? Yet we are little lower than the angels. The dead do not praise G-d, nor those who go down in dust. Our loved ones who remain, shocked, shaking, mourning our sudden death, they will speak our names for us, they will remember and praise the Eternal
.Brenda Appelbaum-Golani May 4, 2021 / 22 Iyar 5781 / 37 days to the counting of the Omer * Leah Leslie Gottesman
Obfuscation
* Shoshannah Somerville A TRAGEDY
In lieu of uncommon difficulties Despite so many differences The annoying constancy of disagreements Those disparaging commentaries that appear too frequently about ways to conduct ourselves how to serve or not to serve our country and with which political parties to align ourselves
Give me your hand We share a Supernal sadness on this earth of our ancestors It is a somber time a time to introspect and to reach out a time to reflect on the many lives of young and old stamped out in a tragic Lag B’Omer at Meron It is a time to feel the pain of the loved ones who remain
The metaphysical reasons are unanswerable Taxing ourselves with delving for those answers only brings more angst It is wise to realize only that we are our brothers’ keepers * Lior Angelman
WHO'S To Blame?
Who’s to blame?
* Alana Schwartz and Gershon Moskowitz teddy, on the treetop when the wind blows, the cradle will drop papa, I want to breathe Papa, there is a teddy on me papa, the bough is breaking I am disappearing Why me?
teddy, on the treetop when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall Papa, I want to live to feel light like a bird papa. what will happen when I fall?
teddy, on the treetop, falling down with the cradle שמע ישראל ה אלוקינו ה אחד
down, comes baby like Mary, and her little lamb led to the slaughter and in the end, one silence Great silence * Esther Fein MERON LAG B’OMER (Erev Shabbos 5781)
I must be saturated with pain “my cup runneth over” from it I am aware of the loss But can’t ingest anymore and live
in order to continue building my faith and worshipping Hashem in my helplessness and humility I must keep seeking joy
like a swimmer in distress drowning in sorrow the thought of preparing for Shabbos is my life-saver
I keep fighting the battle of grief with the dance of hope
Chananya Weissman
They were murdered
It was planned
Amalek
Rules our Land [see: www.rivkalevy.com, also https://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/305422?fbclid=IwAR2MtrkKecD-Shr0G2BqCHkGaciKotnUwYCI4ISCAv5EuAUxJ1GGVFQlqsk and https://www.jpost.com/opinion/after-meron-israel-needs-a-culture-of-true-accountability-editorial-667621.] *
Hayim Abramson The Meron Disaster
In the days of Hamsin, God’s fury human errors lead to disasters this is the time that God hides his face behind a mask of secrets we cry and do not understand why and who is to blame
There is no choice but to continue after the panic release the feeling of a cork in a closed bottle no one can be wise in a time of crisis everything that happened, and hurts because of a hard decree
The bodies are already in shrouds, will go to complete cemetery lines the burial society has done what is necessary to take care of the dead there is no difference to the angel of death silent are the wise they only know that souls will come under the divine Throne, ascend
At the funerals they are faithfully taken down one by one into the grave of the soft soil that awaits the stretcher bed is folded until another body will come, close, almost together
People who like the crowns of Israel were struck by lightning no one wants to lift the glove of such a challenging trial death demanded a hidden victory card, close to the chest the survivors cry over the dead in a deep pit, they are stunned
Obituaries in honor of the dead give some comfort the heart is bitter in mourning, drained a flood of memories gives an inner feeling of softness in the wings of the spirit of faith they cover the voices of the family in mourning
Aharon was silent and so we are in the face of the loss of the dead and their virtues they went out of the world, blooming like notes towards the sky they walk to the infinite, they ascend to the experience and we ask for mercy from God after the early fall of autumn leaves.
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