ANNE WHITEHOUSE Reviews
Shiva Moon by Maxine
Silverman
(Ben Yehuda Press, Teaneck, N.J., 2017)
As its title suggests, Shiva Moon, Maxine Silverman’s most recent poetry collection,
places the personal within the context of the universal. In Judaism, shiva refers
to the seven-day mourning period following a death in which the mourner remains
at home, withdrawing from daily routine, and receives visits from family and
friends. In Silverman’s case, shiva for her father coincided with a full moon
and lunar perigee at the winter solstice, an astronomically significant event
when the moon is closest to the earth.
After
we buried our father, the moon came nearest
earth’s
center, resplendent in its wholeness,
most
expansive of all other nights,
the
Shiva Moon.
(“Night
Light”)
The
poems in the collection are a chronicle of the mortal illness of Silverman’s
father, his death and burial, and the year-long period of ritual mourning
beginning with the week of shiva. Silverman describes the griever’s sense of feeling
lost and stunned, even when death was anticipated, as in the case of
Silverman’s father, whose final illness lasted more than a year.
Mourning’s
30th day
it
dawns on me. Without him
is the
rest of my life.
Where
have I been
that I
didn’t know?
I saw
death coming,
no place
to swerve.
(“Shloshim Eclipse”)
Kaddish, the Jewish prayer of mourning which is said
ritually for a year in the presence of a community of at least ten
participants, is famously a prayer praising God, which never mentions death.
How is it possible to praise God, Silverman wonders, when she is “wrapped in
grief?” She answers her own question:
“If
we hold a memory of our beloved
(an
afternoon fishing, or a favorite song)
it
is possible to praise.”
(“What I Learned So Far
[2])
These words recall the traditional Jewish benediction,
“May his/her memory be a blessing.” The poems that follow transpose Silverman’s
happy memories of her father with unbidden, fearful dreams. Among the happy
memories: lakeside vacations, her father’s gifts as a gardener and their shared
love of nature, and his dedicated participation in his synagogue which inspires
and roots her own religious practice, enabling her to find and name, even in
the depths of grief, overwhelming gratitude:
Welcome,
Grief,
resident
alien, baruch haba.
Memory
will
count Father in the minyan
of
a daughter’s heart.
Year after
year
how
privileged to light the candle.
Most fortunate daughter thanks her
father,
tear
after tear.
(“A
Mourner’s Prayer”)
*****
Anne Whitehouse is the author of six poetry collections, most recently Meteor Shower, her second from Dos Madres Press (2016). Her novel Fall Love has just been published in Spanish translation as Amigos y Amantes. 2016 honors include Songs of Eretz’s, RhymeOn!’s, Common Good Books’, and Fitzgerald Museum’s poetry prizes. Visit her at AnneWhitehouse.com.
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