If you would like to contribute a piece to Iron Words, please click here.
This time last year it’s early in the morning and I am suddenly roused from sleep. Could it be…? Is this a siren? We are usually warned about red alert sirens, indicating that we are being
Through smoky dawn,a soldier stands,in Israel’s land. Courage demands,he treads on ashes,October’s ashes,the fallen’s remains. With each step, he tastes their pain.October seventh,a day of Terror. Burned bodies,a somber sight.He fights through the barricades and fire. A cigarette’s glowin dim
the July 4th rat a tat tatfireworks finale soundsno holiday hotdogs hereonly a fusillade of bullets our porch doorcreakingno longer a signof lazy summernow suspicionis all it brings Who will enter? my rational mind knowswe’re in
I could be you could be me.Washing my body privately in the showerfeeling safe and protected/violated andripped apart. I could be you could be me, cooingmy baby to sleep in a safe and protective collective settlement/butchered,
Photo of Nir Maman I live in Canada, many miles away from Israel and Gaza. I am a committed Jew however, ensconced in thought everyday about my fellow Jews fighting a war for our people. I’m
I’m not brave. I have never offered to check if there’s a burglar or terrorist outside in our garden when the dog growls and barks at night. I take a tranquillizer before I visit
You don’t care when our soldiers are killed.You don’t care when our elderly are murdered.You don’t care when our women are raped.You don’t care when our men are brutally slaughtered.You don’t care when our children are
Before that day we were wholeRejoicing in life’s small pleasuresOblivious to the shadows encroaching.Killers came, prepared with the blackest of soulsEvil came to our door – to break us. AndNow we see the purest of hate
for Franck Salameh The poets of Hamas bemoan the death of one of their own. Villanelles and sonnets deny that men from Gaza violated Jewish girls time and again, in gangs, with rabid zeal. They call
My brain on Day 16 of war. I need frozen broccoli and I should go say ten chapters of Tehillim (Psalms). The laundry basket is overflowing and the images of burned bodies I accidentally saw on social media are seared