Sunday, 19 November 2023

Thirty-nine lashes scourge my soul.

Preface.

October 7 is a horror and a grave stain on the Palestinian struggle for freedom and I mourn the victims, the dead, the kidnapped, their families and friends have my sympathy.    

And yet, there's no justification whatsoever for what Israel has done before and since to the Palestinian people. As there can never be a legitimisation of theft of land, of life, of oppression and torture and of such contempt of the other that a people, a nation, now commits genocide. In all that my sympathy, my heart, is with the Palestinian people, all of them, completely.   

However, please do not ever make the mistake of thinking that this Israel equals all Jewish people. Without a doubt there are in (be they few) and outside (just a little more) this state of Israel those that still deserve the title Mensch. 


They flee involuntarily 

from Canaan to Egypt

twenty-eight incubators

yet three remain still

as do eight in Memoriam.

Thirty-one little Amaleks 

fighting for life to-be

and eight infants covered 

with soil and debris

their mother's heart torn.

Pharoa's carriages bear

this flight of innocence 

not from God's plague

but of a nation's wrath 

men, no longer mensch.


© 2023-11-20


Note.

The Yiddish definition of Mensh: A mensch is a person of integrity, morality, dignity, with a sense of what is right and responsible. Moreover, someone caring, kind and considerate.



Friday, 3 November 2023

Night without awakening

 

I wake up

and feel her nestle 

in my arm

Cold feet

paws retracted claws

and a wet nose

Silently she crawls 

under the duvet

she senses so well

my need for gentleness

and silence

The world beneath my feet

it quivers

for so long already

yet I seem to be

the only one 

to notice

So too the audible drone

the dark resonance

from the pit

The earth, the air

sigh and growl

and but few take in

These final days 

and she, licks my skin

her tongue rough 

still ever so tender

I see faces of the dead

- some distorted -

pass me by

- some at peace -

in the night, each night

A struggle without onset 

sadly also with no end

And she, she turns

adjusts softly 

against my chest

falls, falling asleep

And I follow

I follow in her fall

and do not wish to awaken


© 2023-11-07


Original Dutch / Oorspronkelijke Nederlandse tekst.


Nacht zonder ontwaken


Ik waak op

en voel haar zich nestelen 

in mijn arm

Koude voetjes 

pootjes ingetrokken klauwen

en natte neus

Stilletjes kruipt zij 

onder het dek

ze begrijpt zo goed

mijn behoefte aan zachtheid

en stilte

De wereld onder mijn voeten 

trilt al

reeds lang

maar ik schijn de enige te zijn 

die voelt

Zo ook de diepe hoorbare brom

de donkere resonantie 

vanuit de put

De aarde, de lucht

zuchten en grommen 

en slechts weinigen horen

Deze laatste dagen

en zij, zij likt mijn huid

haar tong ruw

en toch zo teder

Ik zie de dode gezichten

sommige verwrongen

aan mij voorbij gaan

sommige in vrede

in de nacht, elke nacht 

Een strijd zonder aanvang

helaas ook zonder einde

En zij, zij draait zich

schikt zich zacht

tegen mijn borstkas

valt, valt in slaap

En ik volg

volg in haar val

en wens niet te ontwaken


© 2023-10-31 / 2023-11-07



Ruthlessly merciful



She has the gift

to bind me to this life


and sometimes that's a punishment


life, that is

not her, not ever her



© 2023-11-02



Original Dutch.


Onmeedogenloos barmhartig


Zij heeft de gave 

mij aan dit leven te binden


en soms is dat een straf


het leven

niet zij, nimmer zij


© 2023-10-27 / 2023-11-02