Tuesday, January 06, 2009

This morning a Qassam exploded

This morning a Qassam exploded
In our garden in Ashkelon.
I watched a stranger in a yarmulke
Brandish its twisted metal
For the benefit of yawning cameras,
Lyrically describing his fears
For the safety of his family.
Then, there they were, filling the screen,
Laden with bags of shopping,
Rushing back and forth
Between the BMW and bunker.

Tonight I’ll play the hopeless fool,
Crawling through the rubble of Jibaliya,
Where the flesh of my father still lies,
Near the blazing market square,
Where the last traces of air
Soughed from the lungs of my wife,
Past the ruined school
Where two daughters learned to die,
And there, beneath the starless skies,
I will take careful aim,
Towards our garden in Ashkelon
And let another Qassam fly.

“You can’t be an enlightened, intelligent, involved human being on this earth without at the same time being full of despair.”
Karin Fossum ‘He Who Fears the Wolf’

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