Images courtesy of CBC, NDTV, The Times of Israel, and The Forward
It cannot happen here,
not in this place, not in this age--
Until a six-year-old boy is stabbed to death.
In Grand Central station,
a man punches a woman in the face,
telling her it is because she is Jewish.
It cannot happen here,
not in this place, not in this age.
It cannot happen here,
not in this place, not in this age.
Yet on a bus, a man screams,
“We don’t wear that in this country!”
to a Sikh teen about the turban of his faith.
A university student calls for the murder
of his Jewish fellow students
It cannot happen here,
not in this place, not in this age.
It cannot happen here,
Not in this place, not in this age.
Yet swastikas are spray painted
on a Jewish business.
In 2018 on October 27th,
A madman entered The Tree of Life Synagogue,
spewing hatred and shooting eleven dead.
But no. It cannot happen here.
Not in this place, not in this age.
Yet remember,
Executive Order 9066,
those rounded up and sent to camps
here in this place.
Look hatred in its devil face,
see if you still can believe,
still convince yourself—
It cannot happen here.
Not in this place, not in this age.
I’ve revised and reworked an earlier piece written in 2017 as a response to the terrorism of Hamas and the war Israel has declared. It seems to me that this slaughter by Hamas and the retaliation that Israel is now forced to take cannot be what any God wants. Surely, it is not what the Palestinian people or the people of Israel want either.
The blood of children
falls as rain
on Holy ground.
The blood of their parents
chasing after
as if to save it,
stopping it
from concreating the land
to evil born of old hatred
as the world,
emptied of all care,
watches.
No uprisings.
No shouting in the streets
as this blood rain of innocents falls,
flooding the silent world
as nations watch,
hands bloodied
in pretense of helplessness
before turning their backs.
The seven descend.
Each with wings spread
enough to fill a house.
Shalom upon their tongues.
Throughout the compass points
they search to find
all the gnawed bones,
the muscles and sinew,
the heart and entrails
torn with teeth of hate.
And once the seven
gather all the tiny bits,
With flaming swords
used as needles,
they try to stitch
all humanity’s bloody bits
into one thing well knit.
Neither their swords,
nor spirit of their breath
have the power to seal
the meat and sinew to bone.
And then they know--
those who showed no mercy
would be given none.
Their heads hang--
Inshallah upon their lips
as they ascend.
Their flaming eyes
weeping tears of fire
as they see the red rider
striding across the land.
It is then the seven know
humanity’s avarice and hate
had broken the fourth seal.
Maa shaa’Allah a whisper of smoke
within their throats.
From the seven sets of fiery eyes,
their tears of fire
stream Retzon ha-el
across the night sky.
My daughter, mine,
though you live
thousands of miles away
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where a man caresses a weapon of war as he plots
to drill death into hundreds as he walks down a street,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where freedom should ring
yet a state ties you hostage in righteous ropes of religion,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where you must sell your body
to feed your children,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where no one, no law will protect you
from the monster who sleeps beside you,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where you have no voice,
where you die in the custody of morality police,
where you can disappear with no outcry to echo behind,
sleep, sleep safe, my daughter mine.
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