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Israel Poetry of Alex Lazarus.
Alex is a rabbinical
student at the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College in
Wyncote, PA. Please do not reproduce without his permission.
His e-mail is alexlazarus@yahoo.com.
Humpty Dumpty and
I
Oh
Jerusalem
Seeds of
Peace
The Wall Stood
Still
The day peace sat
crouching in the corner
Houses in
Jerusalem
Humpty Dumpty and
I
I knew Humpty
Dumpty.
He and I were best of
friends.
We would sit on the
wall,
feet dangling,
discussing nursery
rhymes.
He said Jack Be Nimble wasn't as
good at hop scotch as he claimed.
That Mother Goose played favorites
And that I had a crush on Mary
Quite Contrary, which wasn't true.
We laughed a lot at all the funny
things in the world,
real or imagined, it didn't
matter,
we both liked the world the way it
was
and never thought that it would
change
When the fall occurred, I was
there.
We fell
together.
Two acorns from the same
tree.
We thought we could plant the
world with our seeds.
The ground looked soft from
above.
It had rained the day before, and
water formed shiny pools,
below the red
bricks.
I was the first to realize, that
it wasn't so.
I noticed the rocks, I knew what
would happen when we hit.
Humpty had no idea, he was singing
Little Bo Peep.
Our bodies struck the earth and
shattered.
Yoke spilled, splattered against
the wall,
oozing into puddles, ponds of
winter rain.
I gurgled in the water, drowning
in the reflection of what we had before.
Now, the part about the king's
soldiers is not true.
There was no one there to save
us.
We had to rebuild
ourselves.
Piece by piece.
For years afterward we walked with
empty spaces.
Parts we didn't know how to
replace.
People saw inside of us, peering
into the void that had been left behind.
They were afraid to touch the
sharp edges of our bodies, and perhaps be hurt by the new
shape that had emerged after the fall.
I didn't mind.
I liked being
rebellious.
I liked not being
whole.
He and I have not talked much
after what happened.
Who can blame
us?
How many friendships can withstand
such a trauma?
But there are times when I will
look up upon the wall
And see the shadow of my old
friend singing rhymes.
Oh
Jerusalem
A great love,
I feel for you, Oh
Jerusalem.
Your stones fill my pours, and
over your many hills glides my soul
But, still, I hate
you
You pull me from
myself
Making me weak with arguments I
can't answer
You are everything I want, but
nothing I can have
Yet, without you, my reflection is
of a different person
Cold and
withdrawn
It is only on your raised
streets
That I can dance like King
David
Before the Temple was even
built
And the center of the world was
reserved for the letters of your name
Seeds of
Peace
In a bunker we discuss
peace
At the edge of the green line, we
stress cooperation
At this time of war, seeds of
peace lie hidden
Everyone longing for them, but
clasping the two fingers of the peace sign into a
fist,
We try to pound them into
submission
In the tiny community of Hahat
Al-Salam, just south of Jerusalem, two people argue over
independence
Nabka and Yom
Ha'atzmaut
Occupation and
Security
Peace and War
I read last year about how the
current situation has destroyed many intermarried
couples
And here, even in the ground sand
of the Negev,
There are people asking what
happened to the rocks
The Wall Stood
Still
This wall is cracked, I
said.
Impossible, the man beside me
answered, his payes blowing in the wind.
This wall has been here for
thousands of years, millions maybe.
Since the beginning of time, his
friend agreed.
God watches over it, it can't
crack.
Just think Avraham Avenu might
have touched this very same stone, said a boy, pushing his
hand against the wall.
His mother watched from the other
side of the barrier.
Put your ear against it, a soldier
called out.
It beats like a heart, he tapped
his gun.
There was a sonic boom
overhead.
I ducked, the wall stood
still.
Now, I put my ear against
it.
All I heard were people praying,
their feet banging against the stones.
Above the Muslims shuffled off to
their mid-day prayer service.
The day peace sat
crouching in the corner
The day peace sat crouching in the corner
We all set out with flashlights and dustpans to try to find
her
Yoo Hoo, where are you?
My mom thought she saw it in the bathroom cabinet by the
aspirin and the
tranquilizers
But, when she popped the caps on all the medicine
bottles
There were only pills
Downstairs, my brother, Ahamad, said peace was in the
kitchen
Chowing on leftover turkey and roast beef
My sister Sarah screamed that she thought it was under her
bed playing with
the cat
I, personally, saw it in the den watching television
Before long we were all arguing
Ahamad had knives in his hand dripping with meat
Sarah was holding the cat and crying that her brother wanted
to kill her
My mother and I were chewing vitamins
And watching Tom Brokaw describe another spat of violence in
the
Middle East
Peace had tuned us out
She shook her head,
Singing an old college fight song to block the
noise
Houses in
Jerusalem
houses in jerusalem are built with
long rods and cement
the process is something like
this
trucks carry the rods sticking
from their back sides
these rods, after lying for weeks
in sand and garbage, are put inside large cinder
blocks
layer by layer the house is
erected
a grey sticky cement holds
everything in place
mostly arab workers, smoke during
breaks
resting in the hot
sun
the rods are rusted and
crisscrossed, forming brown grids until they are covered by
cement
loud cranes move the heavier
material
explosions cover the sound of
traffic, which is forced to maneuver around orange
barriers
the air around the site is filled
with sand and hard to breath
finally, when the house has
reached its full height,
it is slapped with jerusalem stone
and given permission to stand with the other large white
structures of the city
the story goes that when the
messiah comes, the process will be
reversed
and instead of a white pristine
city
jerusalem will be cold and
grey,
but glow inside with the light of
goodness
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