You Won’t Be There these High Holy Days

You won’t be there these High Holy Days I’m thinking about all you will miss Or more precisely, about what I must face - I call it my own Yizkor list: You won’t be standing at the door On this next Yom Kippur morn Waiting to drive with me to shul Oy, how my heart will be torn You won’t be there in your blue sports jacket With your velvet Tallit bag in hand From now on I’ll drive to shul all alone ... That’s not how I had it planned You won’t be standing in row six, Guarding our family’s seats As the chorale rehearses, as I run about, As you warmly greet all who you meet You won’t be sitting during the service Sporting your big warm grin You won’t be beaming about “my son, the rabbi” Before I even begin You won’t be there to claim your credit Joking you wrote the sermons for me You won’t be shaking hands at the end Enjoying the praise of Or Ami You won’t be there at break-the-fast, As we bid High Holy Days farewell You won’t be there when we recall highlights I won’t get to hear you kvell You won’t be there to build the sukkah As we’ve done since I was a kid You won’t be passing out your homemade fudge To my annual gathering of yids You won’t be there these High Holy Days Never again and never more I’ll meet you only in my dreams, And during the service at Yizkor I’ll be a mourner at temple this time I’ll skip leading Yizkor this year But in my mind I will hold onto your hand And I won’t hold back my tears

Explore more poetry about mourning Papa (my dad, Ken Kipnes).

Watch my videos about mourning

Enjoy more of my spoken word poetry