Last year I thought I didn’t really write any poetry, but looking back I see I did in fact compose a few poems and it seems a good idea to have them all in one place to look at - even if I am the only person who ever does so. So here goes with my year of poems, except I don’t remember when I wrote some of them so it won’t be the diary, but still a record of what took my attention enough to want to scribble a few words:
The anger rolls on generation after generation,
Will it ever stop, we ask?
Where did they learn to
Immure a whole people in a ghetto,
A tiny square of land where
They’d be sitting targets?
The numbers of dead children numb my brain.
It is the images of mile upon mile of piled rubble
And nowhere to run,
And nothing to live on,
While on the other side sirens
Call the people to run
Through leafy, well-tended suburbs
To shelter, safe, and well-built,
While futile shells spatter a few holes
And rattle some dishes.
These rockets won’t return
You great-grandfather’s olive grove
That he planted for you, my brother.
They are stones in boys’ hands
Against a rank of might tanks.
Though they make you feel a man
Who can stand, at least stand.
We sit in our comfortable houses
Half a world away
And beg you to stop.
But it never will. You never will.
The horror of those few years of history
When helpless millions were packed like cattle
And taken to slaughter,
Is still etched in nightmare,
As if those tattooed numbers have now become DNA.