Passover
In my dreams I see her in the ruins -
A mystified ghost:
How could such misery be in a place
With no crooked cross, savage dogs,
‘Rause Jude’, or men in black
With eyes as dead as stone?
Crooked bodies, dead in the dust -
Deformed and mutilated children
Cry for their mothers, as men and women
Cry for their God –
But heaven, as always, does not
Take their part.
Neither do the powers that be –
There is no oil or gold in Gaza,
Nor blue-eyed angels broken on a wheel.
Only stragglers, dark shadows
Calling on a god unseen in the universal
Language of pain.
She has heard these cries before,
A lost Anne Frank who died a child defiled.
Does she pray again, I wonder -
Ask her god to banish from the sky
The angel of death who scorns the blood
As it drops its bombs on a different brood?
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