I imagine that you were conflicted,
when your brother left for America,
leaving behind more than could be understood,
by anyone, who already stood on the shores
of the land of opportunity, and assimilation.

When his family was finally able to join him,
what could be envisioned as their future,
amidst the multitude of countless faces,
indifferent to the truth that binds the lives
of the faithful together over centuries?

Your brother – my great-grandfather –
his decision, the only reason, that I am alive today.
How can I complain? Yet, I am also conflicted,
knowing I should be grateful, to have even been born.
Despite the fact that I still yearn, to live
like my ancestors did in Bolechov.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s