SLAVE TO MEANS
AND NEED
When I was twenty-four I was taken away
by armed men - scarves around their faces,
they pointed guns at me head. Palestinians,
or so they said, out to avenge now a dirty,
land-stealing Jew. It's the same old story -
Haifa to Mt. Hebron; we do the same. When
the bombs go off, it seems the only extra
topping on your outdoor Jerusalem pizza is
blood and guts and glory, freely given.
-
I'm so tired of all the groaning - over who
gets what and who owns who. Even the old
language makes me sick. I grovel instead.
Just to think that mankind could be so stupid;
to fall for ancient G-d tricks, jumping voices over
buses and limbs, caterpillar arms with sacrificial
lambs. Men killing sons, and fathers being fooled.
-
What a mixed up, sickening rule this all is.
Listen to the silence, for that's the only thing
that really rules our day - the silence of the land
and trees, the silence of the river, running slowly,
over every hill and dale, through every wicked curve.
The land was here before we were. Learn that first.
-
Yes, I was kept prisoner for thirteen months; held in
seclusion, though not alone. I was fed two meals a
day by an intrepid jailer who would push me mush
through the bars. We said little; he knew I was subject
to fits of anger, broiling over, mad and crazed, as I was,
by this horrid situation. I little cared for Arab, Jew, or
nation. I was a slave to means and need instead.
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