Moshe

Moshe was our sandy-haired head-teacher.

 

I thought he was wonderful.

 

Freckled with a wry smile

and,

A friendly punch

to the shoulder of us boys who passed too close.

 

and,

 

I remember the day of the storm

when school flooded

and the water was more than a meter deep.

 

I am talking, muddy soup, swirling with wood and dirt and bracken.

 

and Moshe

in the playground, the next day

sweeping-up.

 

This was no photo-opportunity moment.

This was him doing,

him doing

& caring.

 

I later learned of the embezzlement

and today

thirty years later

I still cannot work-out what happened.

 

And reconciling one image with another,

It is the man

blue crocheted Kippa, balanced precariously on his freckled head

sincere

and kind

that remains with me.

 

For Yael.

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