Readings (2)

Uri Zvi Greenberg

Those who Live by their Virtue Will Say

They were the chosen... They sang... Now their voices are silent.
The true sons of the race of David that fell with their sword in their hand
Simple and lovely like young David of the Shepherd Clan...
And they shall praise Thee, O Lord, from the dust they've returned to!
The dust Thou created them from is the dust of death...
This kind of dust whereof Thou createth primeval man.
The Temple Mount and the Rock -
From that dust they'll praise Thee... Immortal are they!
There is no truth, no glory but them.
And we, in this world, do live by their virtue.
And by their splendor we prosper.
Whoever looks unto their graves will ne'er be enslaved any longer.


Amir Gilboa

And My Brother Said Nothing

extracts [for copyright reasons]:

My brother came back from the field
dressed in gray. And I was afraid that
my dream might prove false, so at once
I began to count his wounds.
And my brother said nothing.

[...]

Then I undid the pack
and took out his belongings, memory by memory.
[...]
And my brother said nothing.

And his blood was crying out from the ground.

Chaim Hefer

The Paratroopers Wept

This Wall has heard many prayers.
This wall has seen many walls crumble.
[...]
But this wall never saw paratroopers weep...

[...]
Perhaps it is because the bours of 19
who were born together with the State
carry on their backs -- two thousand years...


Write Your Own Poems!

Soldiers Fall in War

G.E.A.

"Soldiers fall in War"...
"Civilians perish in defense"...
Inanities masking more!
All people - victims in the present tense.

Sniper fire, madman's ire,
Frontal attack, slipped in from the back,
The fallen, cut down in ignominy,
By pervaders of hate's homily.

Piercing sorrow, numbed by tiredness - not years:
The right to remember, love and cherish,
The hope for peace at war with fears,
As we dignify the memory of those who perish.

Yitkadal - Grieve the girl who never grew,
Veyitkadash - Weep for the son you hardly knew,
Shmei - Mourn the wife, mother of few,
Rabba - Bless the memory of a father true.
Amen.


 

 

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17 Apr 2007 / 29 Nisan 5767 0