Dear God,
I wonder if she was afraid,
As she stood aboard the ship,
Packed to the capacity with children,
Being rescued from a blood stained land.
I wonder if she tiptoed over to the ledge,
And waved goodbye with her little hand.
Watch over her! her maman had said,
To the boy closest in line.
Protect her from those who wish to harm,
I
will, as if she is a sister of mine.
And he smiled at her with a brotherly charm.
I wonder if she cried,
In that gloomy orphanage alone in France.
Awakened by bombs nightly,
I wonder if in the bomb shelters she did dance.
Did she think she’ll see her parents again??
Or was that a thought her memory condemned?
Was she ecstatic to be on the way to the holy land?
After just a year in France, luck stroke that little
hand.
A bunch of children, including her new brother,
Were to be sent to a farm in the holy land Israel.
Where the Jewish people could be free,
Not persecuted for religion or ethnicity.
As the years past and she worked the land,
Did she often look at her growing hand,
And wonder if to her mother she’d wave again?
She spent her time dancing,
Of that I’m sure.
Dancing was something she always did,
No matter what trials or tribulations were in store.
Dear god,
When her parents arrived to the holy land,
Rescued by you, the almighty king of all.
Did she fall to her knees in gratitude?
Was her smile as bright as a sunlit sky?
When she was 17 she chose to teach,
I inherited her skill, a love to preach.
As she sang the Hebrew alphabet to young orphaned
children
Did she see pain in their war struck eyes?
Knowing their parents no longer among them?
Dear god,
After she wed and had a family of her own,
Did she constantly fear the safety of her home?
For she often moved from place to place,
Until they moved overseas.
Leaving the holy land is heartbreaking,
But 9 children are hard to feed.
50 years to teaching she dedicated,
To help grow the minds of the young.
Her students sing her praises to this day.
I wonder, was that something her little hand anticipated?
The Nazis tried to wipe the Jews out,
But thank god they did fail!
And my grandmother is their biggest revenge.
She could have raged and cried for years,
Drowning with sadness and tears.
For losing a childhood rightfully her own,
Being separated from her family, no love, no home.
If you would have met her,
You would have never known.
Her aura was content,
Eyes bursting
with song.
Her kitchen always full of aromatic smells,
Her Energy so full of life!
A Dedicated mother teacher and wife.
She showed them those Nazis!
Unbearable hardships our warrior did face,
But you would never know.
Because she still danced.
Our warrior is no longer among us,
Passed away just a year ago.
I saw her a week before,
And although her body no longer strong,
I looked into her eyes and saw the song.
And I too danced.
A few minor details have been changed to respect my family's wishes
