By Emma Richter
a precariously-placed cactus,
teetering over the edge,
knocks over,
and the needles come raining down.
a shabbos meal, which is a shiva,
(whispers flood the room: “nisht shabbos
gurecht”)
strikes a painfully ochre, syrupy chord:
listen.
the guests stuff their faces –
as if the world is ending –
and drink from merriment
into oblivion;
dead tired bodies lay splayed across the
couches,
the pale light illuminating tears,
in mourning’s choreography:
no one knows what to do next.
when i get home, i unshackle myself
as others cannot
and fall into bed
plagued by the knowledge that i have no-
where left to run.
These are some of my experiences with loss, fear, and panic from this year. You may notice how I reference in both the feeling of not knowing where to go next. I imagine this is how Jews felt throughout Jewish history: stranded in the wilderness after leaving Egypt, emptiness and uncertainty stretched before them; after the destruction of the Second Temple and the loss of their home and religious practices; after the Second World War and the Holocaust, and the destruction of their communities of hundreds of years. A central part of my personal belief system is the home as a cornerstone as well-being: when you lose your home, whether it is physical, emotional, or intellectual, you experience a great loss. Through these poem I hope to convery the vastness of that loss, and its ability to unravel.
About Emma
Emma Richter graduated from CUNY Queens with a BA in English. While there she completed an honors thesis in her major that utilized a nontraditional, creative argumentative structure in the shape of a honeycomb. At Pardes, she is the Rabbinic Literature Research Fellow, as well as the sole administrator of the acclaimed “pardes chat o’ whimsy,” for which she has much affection. She adores Wed Anderson movies, collecting vintage clothing, and slowly combing through her collection of 997 video games. In the fall of 2023, she will begin law school to fulfill her dream of becoming a housing lawyer.