It was a quaint
But regal place
Its entrance was quite vast
A presence quite Victorian
When wealthy ruled the past
And as I entered
The main room
About to book a stay
A large framed picture
On the wall
Just blew me away
Almost looking at me
His eyes seemed full of pain
But that warm face
Was comforting
It struck a special vein
He stood behind this counter
A hundred years ago
“Who was this man?”
I wondered
No one will ever know
He must have worked
In this hotel
I questioned what he did
But clearly from the picture
I saw a pious Yid
I saw the great white beard he had
The peyos by his ears
I saw the eyes
That longed for hope
About to fill with tears
I think his eyes
And his whole heart
Did long for his old town
The system of
This great new world
Had surely let him down
Perhaps he was a refugee
From Czar Nikolai’s decrees
Who landed stuck
A lonesome Jew
A life filled with unease
He worried for his children
How they would turn out later
Growing up
Here in Vermont
Without a proper cheder
What have become
Of Jews like him
So pious and so pure
And yet so lost
In this free land
To raise a future dor
Thrust in a world
That gave him hope
Yet many tests to pass
And for the multitudes
Of them
Their future did not last
Behind the desk
Of this hotel
In the Land of the Free
But in his heart
He asks himself
“Where do I want to be?”
In the tears
Of loneliness
I see within his face
I see a man who’s truly lost
For this is not his place
Epitomizing
Our journey
In comfort in this land
The pain inside
Is something that
We only understand
Perhaps we are so lucky now
We have all that we want
But till we really
Come back home
We know it’s all Vermont