Last night I said Kaddish for my father
Ohev v’ Shalom
On the Yarzheit anniversary of his death
But who will say Kaddish for me?
I was but ten months old
When my father died
A man whose face I do not remember
Nor his touch, nor his voice
Save for the one and only surviving photograph
That sits atop my RCA tv
Along with other assorted bric- a –bracs
I would have had no conception of his image
I was a going away present
A last gift for my mother from dad
A change of life baby
Or the tumor baby as I was called
The last thing that mother needed
Another clamoring mouth to feed
Always sickly, always neglected
Who will say Kaddish for me?
Now grown to manhood
Both parents reposing in their graves
So much history already forgotten
So who will say Kaddish for me?