This Holy Day

Welcome to the world. 

Only eight days old, 

you felt the darkness of this country on a day that was supposed to be filled with light.

Before you could lift your own head up, you witnessed the murder of eleven people.

Before you could talk, you heard the words “all Jews must die.”

Replacing the tears of joy with ones of last goodbyes.

Final breaths of air taken in the place of God.

The screams overpowering the shatter of bullets.

And with every day the passess you’ll rememeber. 

With the hot wax spilling on your dining room table from the shabbat candles,

you will see their blood.

Blessing your daughter as she receives her hebrew name,

you will hear bullets.

Memories tattooed in the hollows of your mind, resurfacing with each spent inside a temple. 

Among the walls of solidarity, prayers are whispered never shouted.

Concealing your faith in a ziplock bag. 

It will remain there untouched, unspoken,

buried amongst the bodies of your people who were silenced. 

With the familiarity of closed lips, you will veil yourself from the world

Until it is safe again.

You survived and now you are 52 days old.

And this isn't the end.

Welcome to this world. 

Your new home.