Leiser's Advice to Moses, and: Singing, and: The Goddess of Trauma Cannot Sleep

Leiser's Advice to Moses

I'm sorry to tell you,says Leiser: Moses made

a big mistake, walkingaround with the Jewish people

for forty years. He couldhave made it easy. A year

or less. He could have cometo Switzerland. It's so

beautiful. Instead, a lifetimeto get to Canaan. And not allowed

in. Now his people have troublewithout end, torn

from Gaza, warsfor years, blown to bits.

Singing

Leiser is singing the song they sangwhen they went to their deaths.And now he is singing the song from Vilna: Stille,stille. Tell me the words, I say.Now he speaks in three languages.But I have interrupted him. Just sing,I tell him. He laughs. The laugh is terrifying.What will he say next? If I need to . . .he begins, I can sing the song in the trolleystation. And you will come. And you will bringa hat so they can put their money insidewhile I sing. We can do it together.If I need to, he says again. And he laughs.And he can hardly stop laughing. This time,I almost laugh with him. But I can't. Howmany times I have walked in those places,in the shadow of the valleyof death. Only this one risen from the cellarof the murdered, this blind man who hasoutwitted death can laugh.

The Goddess of Trauma Cannot Sleep

The goddess of trauma cannot sleep. She has lostthe entryway to the vineyard of night. Expertin the trauma of others: a man who studies the Talmud,his severed head talisman in a window; the boywho mistakes bodies for a pile of clothing; a girl sedated and put into a tool sack; a small boy made to crossa river without looking back at the mother he won't seeagain; this one forced to bury his tiny dead brother.

But here comes your face, already a death mask:here comes a smile, so strange I do not at firstrecognize it; here come the elongated spacesbetween your breaths. I count them and it is my ownrestricted lungs that refuse to fill with air. The goddessof trauma is no expert in this country.