HERE’S MY UNCLE MILTIE

And his wife, my Aunt Flo

Last seen apart,

But together again for our reunion

And there, my Uncle Marty, 

Quiet now as he always was

Testament to the quiet heroes 

Sent to fight Hitler and rescue Europe

Home now, here in New Jersey 

Waiting for his bride, my Aunt Rita

Who finally, after 50 long years

Is ready to rejoin her lost love 

And take her place in our fallen family 

Rita, whose passing has called us all,

The survivors and the caretakers

To gather in solemn reunion

On this hill in New Jersey

Amongst our family of Stones

SUCH A STRANGE PLACE

For a family reunion,

This bare windy Hill 

In Northern New Jersey

A Jewish cemetery filled to its heights

With loved ones and familiar names

Who populated my childhood 

With smiles, laughter 

And loving embraces

A childhood where each was a god

As adults will seem in a child’s world 

But gods no more, here on this hill

Gone, and some only hazily recalled

Resting now and waiting, 

All of them fallen under the weight

Of well- or poorly-lived lives  

Patiently they wait beneath their stones

For the next generation

My cousins and I, to join them

Here amongst the Stones.

I STAND HERE, ALWAYS A CHILD

Staring down at the graves

Of my father and mother

Both gone long enough 

That I forget the sadness

That once blinded my eyes 

And filled my lungs

I place stones on their stones

To let them know

My love holds fast and true

Even if memory dims

Some of my treasured images

Old as I am or will become

I will always be their son

Even on this hill in New Jersey

Here amongst the Stones

The silent Stones.