by Susan Kress (Saratoga Springs, NY)
I was summoned
by the big girls
at the convalescent home
where I was recovering
from that illness
and I remember
the biggest one
twelve years old at least
sitting cross-legged
saying You think
you are chosen because
you are a Jew
and I could not imagine
how they knew—
maybe the nurse
who said I have a bone
to pick with you
because I’d told
my mother I did not
get the chocolate
in the package she
had sent—opened
before I ever saw it—
maybe that nurse had
spread the word
and there I was
accused and not even
seven years old
sure I would be shunned
for being different
like my father
even after that big war
so all I said was But
I believe in Jesus
and perhaps I did
since my school
had taught me all
about him and I sang
the hymns and carols
loving the music
and the words Breathe
on me breath of God
which I could feel
lifting my hair
like a halo
and those big
girls let me go
though not before
enforcing my un-
easy Yes I do I do believe
in Jesus and I could
leave it there
except this was only
the first time I
was afraid and passed
but not the last.
Susan Kress, granddaughter of Jewish immigrants from Russia and Poland, was born and educated in England and now lives in Saratoga Springs, New York. Her poems appear in Nimrod International, The Southern Review, New Ohio Review, Salmagundi, New Letters, South Florida Poetry Journal, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Third Wednesday, La Presa, and other journals. Her poems have been twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
The Jewish Writing Project 