My Hamsa Necklace

I was gifted a Hamsa necklace
Protection personified in metal
Its silver plating matched my mother’s cold hands,
Its faceted crystals matched my zadie’s calloused hands,
And its small stature matches mine

Within the warmth of familiar walls
Surrounded by the sharp scents of clove and cinnamon
It’s accustomed to off-key Shabbat prayers,
The way I still mistake ע for צ,
And hearing “Hello Shayna Maidel!”

But when I’m among strangers,
The Evil Eye’s glare aimed at my throat,
I recall the bitter words that plagued my mother’s ears
And the family my zadie left on the foggy shores of Poland
As I tuck my necklace underneath my sweatshirt