What I know of Rabbi Weiss of Bilke
though it would not fill a shot glass is this:
to study Talmud into the night, he’d stick
his feet in ice and keep them there, it was said,
to ward off sleep from spreading through his body.
I have it on no authority of course
but I would like to think it was his way
to not forget his body while his soul set forth
into the thick wilderness of God’s law.
O! Rabbi Weiss of Bilke, not a smudge in memory
not a pinprick in the history of the dead,
I can imagine you at Matisse’s table, the light
holding you in place, dining on the sweet breath
of life, two old men wringing from each hour
the honey that flows like fire in the blood.
Rabbi Weiss of Bilke, who knows how you might
have forsaken your wife for study or for that matter
how you came to her in dark passion,
your appetite for wisdom like Solomon’s
so full you met each other with gratitude and love.
O! Rabbi Weiss of Bilke, I drink
to the memory of your feet—may they live
in incandescence to light even the darkest way.
Merrill Leffler
Merrill Leffler has written two collections of poetry, Partly Pandemonium, Partly Love and Take Hold. His Mark the Music will be published in the spring of 2008. Earlier this year, he guest-edited the poetry magazine Shirim, translating with Moshe Dor the poetry of the late Eytan Eytan.
