by Nancy Smiler Levinson (Los Angeles, CA)
On the boulevard near the bus stop in “Persian Square”
I glance a woman, small, mottled skin California sun
one foot on the curb, the other in the street
She looks painfully sad, lost among the stream of shoppers
and I find myself at her side, my arm around her bony shoulder
Are you alright? Do you need help?
Her accent is heavy with my hearing aids I lean in
Money mon-ey I need
Is that what she is saying? for food? bus fare? just in need?
I begin opening my pocketbook, but her hand stops mine
and she pulls me close I am Jewish, lady,
tomorrow night comes Rosh Hashanah I need honey
Ah of course I too am Jewish come I guide her to the bus bench,
bid her wait for me while I take off on foot, a mission of sorts
Blocks on, thank God, in a small market I find honey on the shelf
To the woman, trusting, waiting for me I hand a bear-shaped bottle
God bless you lady, she says, God bless and keep you
Shana Tova and an abundance of blessings to you, I respond
So. . . I performed a small mitzvah quietly with heart and soul
But if one speaks aloud of one’s good deed
it might appear as if acted for applause
and thus in the eyes of God, not count
Now listen, God Sh’ma I need to share this
because there is a story here
almost every mitzvah is a story
or perhaps a small poem
Nancy Smiler Levinson is author of Moments of Dawn: A Poetic Memoir and a chapbook, The Diagnosis Changes Everything. Her work has appeared in Poetica, Jewish Literary Journal, Hamilton Stone Review, Silver Birch Press, Ink in Thirds, Burningword Literary Journal, Minnesota Memories, Constellations, and elsewhere.In past chapters of her life she worked as a journalist, educational book editor, Head Start teacher, and she published some thirty books for young readers (including a biography of Emma Lazarus).
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