My Recent Collective Memories In Washington DC

It was early in the month I celebrate my birth, 
When I walked into a museum that holds our ancient worth. 
I called my mother, Naomi, my screen a glowing frame, 
To share the halls that echo with the glory of our name. 
We spoke of Chief Daniel, my grandpa brave and wise, 
Who told us of our Jewish roots beneath the open skies. 
He spoke of lands a five-hour drive from Ethiopian earth, 
A heritage he planted in our spirits from our birth.

Right there among the artifacts, the history on display,
I saw the Ethiopian Jews, their long and winding way.
The journeys of Aliyah, the courage to return,
I wept right through the camera as my heart began to yearn.
I wiped away my heavy tears, remembering the man
Who served in World War II and taught me how to say "I can."
He raised my mother, Naomi, a student shining bright,
And walking through this history, my heritage took flight.

The DNA confirmed it all, a blessing long foretold, 
The features of my ancestors, a story brave and bold. 
My hair, my face, an echo of a land across the sea, 
And Esther, my given name at birth, staring back at me. 
I found the scroll of Esther, the Megillah in the hall, 
A testament to survival, standing proud and tall.

A silent echo fills the halls of stone,
Where ancient roots and sudden grief are sown.
From Ethiopian plains to foreign shores,
We carry histories of surviving wars.
We hold the names of those who came before,
And pray that hatred breaches us no more.

Yet in this place of triumph, 
Where Jewish hope should bloom,
A heavy shadow surfaced in the room.
A beloved Jewish corporate executive stood before us, 
Reading letters through her tears,
To Sarah, whom she loved so much, across the stolen years.

Right in the very building where they stood that fateful night,
Before Sarah and Yaron were taken from the light.
And as she read the final line, a quiet stillness fell,
A tearful, heavy silence holding grief we know too well.

They dreamed of building bridges, a wider world to face,
But met a senseless darkness at this very place.
There was not a dry eye left, tears traced down every face,
Their memory is a blessing time can never quite erase.

This hatred must be stopped, we cannot yield, 
When bigotry becomes a weaponed shield. 
The data paints a dark and chilling tide, 
Where ignorance and violence collide. 
In twenty-twenty-five, the records show 
The deadliest assaults we've come to know.


A surge in violence, a brutal cost,
Assaults with deadly weapons climbed so high— A thirty-nine percent jump, 
we ask why? 
When global deaths and violent acts ignite, 
We must respond with unrelenting justice.

We cannot let this quiet hatred stand,
Or let it normalize across the land.
We are greatful for the accomplishments that His Excellency The Head of State President Donald J. Trump and His Excellency The Prime Minister of The State of Israel Benjamin Netanyahu have achieved to combat antisemetism, and it is also our responsibility to report crime to law enforcement and look out for one another's safety.

May Sarah's warmth and Yaron's peaceful dream
Flow onward like an everlasting stream.

An Invitation to Remember

Let us pause now, in the quiet of this space, 
To bow our heads and seek a deeper comfort. 
I invite you all to hold a moment still, 
To let a solemn silence gently fill.

We breathe in memory of Sarah's shining light, 
And Yaron’s dream of bringing wrongs to right. 
Two peacemakers taken to the shadows of the night, 
We hold them in our hearts, forever bright.

Within this quiet breath, let prayers unfold, 
For the safety of our people, the young and the old. 
To every corner of the world where Jewish hearts abide, 
May courage be a shield, and love remain the guide.

And as we stand united, where the past and future meet, 
We pray for Jerusalem, where ancient songs are sweet. 
May the city of our ancestors find a lasting dawn, 
Where peace outshines the hatred, and the heavy dark is gone.

Please join us in a moment of silence. AMEN