I Remember: A Poem for Yom HaShoah

I remember the absence of sound,
deeper than silence
and more lonely,
like the moment just
before Creation,
all stretched and
attenuated, waiting,
except there was no time
to measure 
eternity,
so waiting was
Now.

I wait for God to
say my name,
so that I will come to be.

So that I will 
once again remember
the scent of blue 
and the feel of sand 
between my toes,
and how my hand fit 
against the gentle curve of 
your face.
I will once again remember 
all that was taken.

And so I wait,
in this absence of sound,
Waiting for God
to remember
my name.