A Gift from the Lamed Vovniks
On the morning of her 56th birthday, Devorah woke, blinked, and discovered she could not see.
“God, I‘m blind,” she said. As the words left her mouth, Devorah realized she could not hear.
In that moment, thirty-six righteous souls surrounded Devorah and wrapped her in a cloak, sheer as moonlight yet strong enough to withstand grief. Devorah could feel the souls’ gentle touch, smell their sweetness, taste their tears on her lips.
Devorah understood and accepted the gift, thankful she could no longer hear her son suffer and would not see him in his grave.
published in the November 2009 edition of RAGE machine Magazine
Copyright © Ozzie Nogg. All rights reserved
On the morning of her 56th birthday, Devorah woke, blinked, and discovered she could not see.
“God, I‘m blind,” she said. As the words left her mouth, Devorah realized she could not hear.
In that moment, thirty-six righteous souls surrounded Devorah and wrapped her in a cloak, sheer as moonlight yet strong enough to withstand grief. Devorah could feel the souls’ gentle touch, smell their sweetness, taste their tears on her lips.
Devorah understood and accepted the gift, thankful she could no longer hear her son suffer and would not see him in his grave.
published in the November 2009 edition of RAGE machine Magazine
Copyright © Ozzie Nogg. All rights reserved
