Soldiering On
More empty chairs than not We’ll sit at the table alone But how can we bemoan our fate When our children could still come home
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More empty chairs than not We’ll sit at the table alone But how can we bemoan our fate When our children could still come home
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
O sheltered punditsand tenured humanistswho have beenposting and tweeting how you feel bad for Israel, but all the same… I say to you, my colleagues,as Hamas Einsatzgruppenmurder Israeli women and childrenin their homes and fields: Have
AgamDaniellaKarinaLiriNaama five vibrantvital flowersbeginning bloomsurveilling their field suddenly savagelyripped from their soilfrom their landfrom the earth itself AgamDaniellaKarinaLiriNaama if I were Catholicthis ritualistic repetitionwould be my recitationof the rosary but I was born a Jewwith all
Without a chancewithout being askedStill they askThey insistDeclaim “this”1 Before the mountain man2before the voices3before three stars4came us5 Returned we6no prodigal7no mere relic8Rather to end it9 EverlastingPresent, ever threateningTo green hills and pleasant land again10Blood yet,
We commemorateCelebratePontificateOn the ironiesFaced in grief and lovethat proliferateHolding space and breathRemembering who we are and the salvationWe await We’ve been here beforeWe know when it’s time toLather, rinse, repeat Mourning creates longingWhile rumors are swarmingThere’s
Sadness overwhelmsA new day, the tale replayedOnce too many times Laid to rest in peaceAs hearts weep across bruised landPain spreads far and wide Rest well young soldiersThank you for all that you gaveWhat a price
Threats are heavyAnxiety is thickAnd the sky is a perfect bright bluethat reminds me uncomfortably ofthat Tuesday morningFear permeates the steady, warm breezeAs thick grey plumes of destructionRing out A country braced for war-A magnitude of
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,