My name is Yossi Feldman. I grew up in Philadelphia. I was never much of a writer or poet. It was right before shloshim (30 days after his passing) for my father, when I got this inspiration one night when I couldn’t sleep at 2 o’clock in the morning. And here it is.
“Never too old to cry”
30 days, 30 months, 30 years
does nothing to wash his tears,
he misses, he mourns, his mind sojourns,
for moshiach he does yearn. (moshiach = messiah)
On the out side I’m calm and clean.
In the inside I’m broken with no where to lean.
I can shout yell and scream but my father is nowhere to be seen.
My father planted good seeds, with very strong roots.
But where is he when we are picking the fruits.
Tears of happiness tears of joy.
Maybe they drown out all the sorrow and voids.
Every step of my day with pain in my heart,
I feel my father next to me never apart.
I can’t sleep at night nor work at day,
praying for my father saying kaddish hoping this golus would go away. (golus = Exile)