I can’t write this poem
I can’t take my fear of what hasn’t happened
And name it.

I can’t even say the word for that
Because there is no word
Or maybe the word is Ramah

Oh the weeping in Ramah if that were to happen
Heaven would hear me
I would then be Ramah

They would say look there is Ramah
Comfort her, where there is no comfort
Comfort her for she is Ramah