Night

The periwinkle petals closed
As daylight turned to dark-
And nighttime fell like dampened silk
To hush the meadowlark.

And the Talmud, and the holy words,
The violins and song-
Fell silent in the midst of dark,
Seeming out-of-place, or wrong.

And faith became a memory
Like love's first gentle kiss-
The most dear off all possessions
Was the one most sorely missed.

For God had been their guiding light,
As the rituals, and wine-
But the Cantor could not find a note...
T was the night of '39.

by Mel Merrill

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