18 march 2011 / 12 adar II 5771
on the 8th anniversary of your death
i opened your diary
i flipped through the pages
eyes drawn to the green and purple underlines
from when i had read it two years before
i remember sitting in my bed in my mother’s house
& getting angry.
a stupid white girl,
& here i was
in this place where
every force conspired
to make me a stupid white girl,
i saw myself
that someday my mother would love
how i am
and too loud.”
i know that i will not give my life for the struggle
or even my eye.
but i will leave my words humbly at the door
and hope they are enough.
i felt in a hurry to write this,
not realizing at first
that every poem i write to you
is already too late.