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Planting flowers in my Sderot garden, my hand felt the earth that day.
And then my heart knew that to light up the soul, we have to keep fear at bay.
Us with our wandering stars and souls, Jews,
Candles, kippahs and torah scrolls, Jews.
The only things we have, Hashem and Jerusalem,
Our ancient walls have been ruined again, Jews.
Across the yard
Where the Sukkah still stood
We could hear the beat to the drums of war
As we danced and rejoiced
With the holy Torah,
I warily turned the lock of the door
A Russian Immigrant once asked Ilhan Omar:
“O Congresswoman, do you have to mar
all things Israeli? Your wrathful tweets
do lack a balanced view of the Near East.”
His pleas ignored, A Russian Immigrant then turned
to the elected whipper-tweeter from Detroit:
“I want to know, Representative Tlaib,
do you rehearse or is it all ad lib?”
Ninety-seven walk through glue days.
In a row.
Soul rubbed raw.
For better or worse, the inside of everything is showing now.
This poem is dedicated to my people and above all Hashem who does not slumber nor sleep. The Light of Israel will forever burn – nothing will ever extinguish us.Six Million Souls suddenly taken then, left
26th October, 2023 I thinkWe got comfortable in this worldI thoughtI saw the world settle into a beautiful placeDangers far away, unreachableUntouchableI thought of it like a cliff hovering over deadly, thrashing waves on top of
Our hearts are being asked to hold an enormity of pain that is both too vast and too jagged to touch it is too much Our minds are being stretched beyond their borders to hold a
Photo: Sarah Pritzker Srigim, Israel17 November, 2023 No need to utter a sound.Is the groanOf each fibreAs a single dropSoaksThe fabric of a shirtNot enough? Nor dislodge a whimperBecause I can hear your tearsLike an echo
“We’re not from around here,” I say, displaying a facial expression that seems half facetious, half tongue-in-cheek. Ariella cracks up. “Of course you’re not from here! Now come here to the storeroom, I want to give