The Oak of Tears

Ilan Braun

No time to think
Nor to lament
You must dig, right there
Deep, between the tree’s roots

Quick, dig with your bare hands
The cursed bell is going to toll
& brand with shame
the coming hour
& tarnish for ever your pride

Lay down, trembling, your treasure
Sacred rolls & writings of an entire life
The land which has seen you being born
Has lied to you
She is no more than a brown shroud of oblivion

And with your foot
Close up the grave of your memory
Now they can come & seize you
& put you in chains

At the far end of your garden
At the old oak’s bottom
Lies, for ever,
Your soul

This poem is based on the true story of a Spanish Jew who before being expelled from Spain buried his writings and Tora scrolls

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E-mail: Rufina Bernardetti Silva Mausenbaum