I reread the poem for the umpteenth time, and like the first time, shortly after my second brain surgery, I teared up. Mum came to be with me in Phoenix during the surgeries. Dad had to stay at home, across the ocean. Throughout my hospitalization, he expressed his fears, anguish, and love through poetry. He … Read more
Torn from my moorings Fighting currents and maelstroms Drifting upriver
Tzeva Adom Tzeva Adom Sirens howling Mothers screaming Children crying Bombs exploding Rockets shrieking Bombs and rockets Rockets and bombs Sobbing and wailing And silence
War and peace. Peace and war. Missiles to protect civilians. Civilians to protect missiles. Women and children and children and children. Words. Not my own. I have none. I’ve lost my words to the blind mindless hatred I’ve lost my words to the horrors of war.
A story, lived together. At the same time, in the same place. Leaving burn marks in our minds. Raising questions, giving answers. A story told in two voices. Same story, different words. Different questions. Different answers. Different story. But we lived it, together.