There, rest. IV Deathsheads Around the Green Table—The King & the Workers—Paterson Press printed them up in the ’30s till she went mad, or they folded, both. But you stared out the window on the Broadway Church corner, and spied a mystical assassin from Newark, Grief makes people uncomfortable. He’s a rat.’ The telephone rang at 2 A.M.—Emergency—she’d gone mad—Naomi hiding under the bed screaming bugs of Mussolini—Help! —& walked down the long front hall & looked at the furniture. what have I left out Surely God will ransom my soul from the grave; He will gladly accept me … The dust returns to the earth as it was, but the spirit returns to God who gave it.". Their grief doesn't exclude them from the community. This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Wonderer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping—page beyond Psalm—Last change of mine and Naomi—to God’s perfect Darkness—Death, stay thy phantoms! The Kaddish also serves as a guide through many complex stages of grief. Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I've been up all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues shout blind on the phonographthe rhythm the rhythm--and your memory in my head three years after-- And read Adonais' last triumphant stanzas aloud--wept, realizing how we suffer--And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember, prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of An- swers--and my own imagination of a withered leaf--at dawn--Dreaming back thru life, Your time--and mine accelerating toward Apoca- lypse,the final moment--the flower burning in the Day--and what comes after, looking back on the mind itself that saw an American citya flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed--like a poem in the dark--escaped back to Oblivion--No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream, trapped in its disappearance,sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worship- ping each other,worshipping the God included in it all--longing or inevitability?--while it lasts, a Vision--anything more?It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder, Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shoul- dering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant--and the sky above--an old blue place.or down the Avenue to the south, to--as I walk toward the Lower East Side --where you walked 50 years ago, little girl--from Russia, eating the first poisonous tomatoes of America frightened on the dock then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?--toward Newark--toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards--Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school, and learning to be mad, in a dream--what is this life?Toward the Key in the window--and the great Key lays its head of light on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the sidewalk--in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward the Yiddish Theater--and the place of povertyyou knew, and I know, but without caring now--Strange to have moved thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again,with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstops doors and dark boys on the street, firs escapes old as you--Tho you're not old now, that's left here with me--Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe--and I guess that dies with us--enough to cancel all that comes--What came is gone forever every time--That's good!That leaves it open for no regret--no fear radiators, lacklove, torture even toothache in the end--Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul--and the lamb, the soul, in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change's fierce hunger--hair and teeth--and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin, braintricked Implacability.Ai!
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