Sheva BeOctober: A Poem
Without a chance
without being asked
Still they ask
They insist
Declaim “this”1
Before the mountain man2
before the voices3
before three stars4
came us5
Nathan Waintman
August 18, 2024
Tag: poetry
If you would like to contribute a piece to Iron Words, please click here.
Writing from home
Lather, Rinse, Repeat
We commemorate
Celebrate
Pontificate
On the ironies
Faced in grief and love
that proliferate
Holding space and breath
Remembering who we are and the salvation
We await
We’ve been here before
We know when it’s time to
Lather, rinse, repeat
Rachel Weinstein
August 12, 2024
Writing from home
Of Grief and Hope: A Haiku
Sadness overwhelms
A new day, the tale replayed
Once too many times
Laid to rest in peace
As hearts weep across bruised land
Pain spreads far and wide
Rachel Weinstein
August 12, 2024
Writing from home
The Fears We Face – Iranian Threats on Erev Shabbat*
Threats are heavy
Anxiety is thick
And the sky is a perfect bright blue
that reminds me uncomfortably of
that Tuesday morning
Fear permeates the steady, warm breeze
As thick grey plumes of destruction
Ring out
Rachel Weinstein
August 12, 2024
Reverberations of October 7th: Musings of an American Jew on the Fourth of July
the July 4th rat a tat tat
fireworks finale sounds
no holiday hotdogs here
only a fusillade of bullets
our porch door
creaking
no longer a sign
of lazy summer
now suspicion
is all it brings
Jessica Ursell
August 7, 2024
Writing from home
10/7
I could be you could be me.
Washing my body privately in the shower
feeling safe and protected/violated and
ripped apart.
I could be you could be me, cooing
my baby to sleep in a safe and protective collective settlement/butchered, beheaded bleeding corpses piled up
in sacred living spaces.
Michele Hirsch
July 28, 2024
Writing from home
Eilat, July 2024
“Are you still going?”
Asked by a friend as I pack my bags
For a trip that’s been promised a year and a day
A trip long discussed
And oh so desperately needed
“Are you still going?”
In light of recent current events, and ongoing ones
Because to go is crazy
It’s not safe, it’s not the right time
Melissa Saltzman
July 28, 2024
Praise
Praise the fallen world
and its dreamy terrors.
Praise the false certainty
of unflickering leaders
and their certain masses.
No one knows better.
My cravings crave solitude.
My cravings crave space
Lisa Grunberger
July 28, 2024
A Psalm after Glatshtayn
It is too early and too late to dream.
My sister-God braids my hair for
it has grown since the mirrors wore black.
It is too early to die, too late to be born.
I have carrots to chop, soup to cook, a child to read to.
The soup tastes weak; it is mixed with lost time.
Lisa Grunberger
July 28, 2024
A Psalm for My Uncle
Uncle Yosele, may you rest peacefully
outside Tel Aviv in the makeshift hospital
where cousin Bati watches over you.
She told me how you hid under a car
for two days without water,
how you saw your son Ron massacred
holding the hand of his daughter, Sarah.
Lisa Grunberger
July 28, 2024