Eight Epigrams on the Sudden Loss of a Son

Ben Notis

I shriek in anguish for the boy severed from my soul—
Suddenly his home is in the expanse
I am in great pain for him —
— Please, just let me take me his place —

My heart left me when I saw Jacob, dead,
Carried upon his bearers’ arms.
On this earth, other than they,
None have been seen
Burying a star in the dust.

I brace my heart again and again,
That it might quiet down and settle in place.
My right hand is upon it. Perhaps it will slacken,
But then I won’t hold back.

Tears stream from my searing heart,
Which has been rent twelvefold.
Now I must weep unrestrained
For my precious son, my beloved child.

How can my heart last — so I find rest — in my life
— after him — on this earth?
And how can I find comfort without his face,
When his name and memory are all I desire?
Jacob’s name is lost — and yet
A sprout of his loss still thrives inside.
I try to weep it away, and yet it grows —
For a sprout flourishes when quenched.

True, to me, the Earth is like a tight stopper.
To my eyes, my house is like a prison.
But I will never fear Fate again, for
In your death, my son, every fear came to pass.

On the day Jacob was taken,
The sound of my harp turned to mourning.
May that day seize darkness!
May that evil, bitter day be lost!