This Star of David for people in Exile
For those decimated by centuries of horror
And unimaginable cruelty by dominant cultures
Once symbolized protection from all harm
It is now a star of intolerance and retribution
Hatikva, once a song of hope for the Diaspora
A poem adopted in the 1st Zionist Congress
As a national anthem, it is a warning to neighbors
Of military might without compassion or remorse
An anathema to to people of the West Bank and Gaza
I feel sorry for Sicilian
man up on scaffold,
cutting concrete without
a mask.
He breaks
for a cigarette. I notice
he’s wearing his mask
as a necklace.
The ship wreck was inane
driving the sailors insane.
Misery was plain.
Beached on the shore,
with money, jewels and more
with no place to spend it.
Like a broken bone
after bragging that none
has ever snapped
Like pouting after
getting the cookie one
desires most
Like getting across the room
on a bad leg
then forgetting what you
needed over there.
Doomsday doesn’t sound so bad
after all
If the neighborhood is no longer
overrun by what seems to be a league
of feral cats, if they all perish
If the radio gains some silence
and we have more than a crackle
of signal lost to keep us enamored
If there are still rivers where we can
sit, even with two heads instead of one,
basking in an atomic afterglow.
More at http://jddehartwriting.blogspot.com.