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Jews / Hebrews
Further explorations of the world as it is and the world as we wish it to be
HEBREWS!?
…one of the unique things about the jewish people is that historically – at least for nearly two millennia – they were not a state/nation per se altho they were and are an ethnically identifiable “people,” independent of their religion … albeit a stateless people … a little like gypsies … members/citizens of many diverse nation states in the middle and far east, in africa, asia, europe, and the western hemisphere – while simultaneously maintaining their jewish identity, but not as a nation with a state/territory as such. the advent of zionism, the notion there should be an ethnically identified jewish state (designed initially as a nationalist movement primarily to protect jews from centuries of abuse), changed all that.
i personally never much favored the idea of there being a state for jews, especially on ethnically cleansed conquered lands, even as I celebrated the pre-1967 triumphs of Israel. it is my naïve utopian hope that israel and palestine will merge as one state for all its people – a far better outcome in my view than a jewish national state living side by side in peace with a safe, just, and equitable state for the palestinian people – and equally unlikely an outcome as there being one just and equitable state for all the people of Palestine. as Gideon Levy says, “the two-state solution is dead (it was never born); the Palestinian state will not arise; international law does not apply to Israel; the occupation will continue to crawl quickly to annexation, annexation will continue to crawl quickly toward an apartheid state; “Jewish” supersedes “democracy”, nationalism and racism will get the stamp of government approval, but they’re already here and have been for a long time.” in light of that reality i’m left believing israel and palestine are one state already, albeit an apartheid state w a major civil rights problem.” and there is no palestinian state, regardless of the best intentions of the pope.
So how did David turn into Goliath?
Musab
I am Musab, six years old
Two days ago Israeli soldiers surrounded our house at 2 A.M. shooting
Helicopter gunships illuminating the night
Their rotors like giant fans hung from the sky
The whine of their rockets like angry birds
Here four bullet holes through the door of the room where my brother sleeps
Here the shattered windows
“Take your clothes off, all of you, even the women” the Israeli soldiers yelled
Then father was handcuffed
Taken as a human shield to the apartment of uncle Hussan
Where their bullets pierced his door
and the chest of the old man opening it
Who bleeds to death for want of an ambulance.
After his body is removed
The soldiers withdraw
But brother is still crying
My city, Nablus, is still occupied
The old man remains dead
And I am Musab, six years old.
POETRY
- 99 Gratitudes in 3 Minutes – A Yoga Chanting Poem
- A Poem is Born
- After The News
- Alan
- Alan Is Dead
- American Wedding, 2011
- Ask the Sphinx – 2 approaches
- Baggage Claim
- Beach Plum Jam
- Beau Dies
- between spiders
- Burnt Wood – for Bubi
- Conversation With A Ladle
- Coyote in the Headlights
- Coyote in the House
- Crow’s Song
- Daybreak
- Death Factories
- Death of the Dolphin
- Furry Bug
- Gospel of the Redwoods
- Insects in Amber
- It: In Honor of Dr. Seuss
- Journey to Standing Rock
- Kevin Garnett in Africa
- Life among the barbarians
- Long ago, perhaps yesterday
- Mandalay Hills
- Mesquite Dunes
- Miles’ Ashes
- Miles’ Journey
- My First Yoga Teacher
- One Drop of Rain
- Salton Sea
- Self Love
- Sunrise
- The Love Life of Clams
- Throwing Away
- Turn up for Turnips – a song
- Uncle Sol
- What The Stones Say
- when spring arrives ice flows out of the bay
- Whispering Among The Gods
- Willow
- Winter Fog
- Work and Love are What Really Matter: a reunion poem for the BHS class of 1958 reunion
Stand off at Gate 927
It is a beautiful sunny morning
At apartheid gate 927
The Israeli soldiers are listening to rock music
They are in their 20s
They have automatic weapons
Uniforms, walkie-talkies
Humvies, tanks
F16 fighter jets, a nuclear arsenal.
We are Palestinian farmers
With donkeys and tractors
With seed, fertilizer, and lunch in plastic bags
We are four Americans over fifty
With cameras, cell phones, and bottled water
We are Bedouin with sheep and goats and identity cards
We dismount from our donkeys and tractors
And wait
Wait long enough to see the falcon hunting,
To see the wild dog with the stolen chicken,
Wait to be admitted through the small gate
To the turnstile
Then into the concrete bunker
To wait at the counter, to show our passes,
To be released into a holding area
To go back through a sliding gate
To get back on our donkeys and tractors
To pass through the big gate
Opened only certain hours
On certain arbitrary days
To get onto our land – our own land –
On the other side of this abominable fence
That separates us from our fields
From our trees and fruit
From our grass, our rocks, and our graves
On the other side of this fence
That separates us from our brothers and sisters
We stand in the sun waiting two hours
On the side of this fence
That separates us from our livelihoods
On the side of the fence
That separates us
© brtaub – 02/08
Poetry
- 99 Gratitudes in 3 Minutes – A Yoga Chanting Poem
- A Poem is Born
- After The News
- Alan
- Alan Is Dead
- American Wedding, 2011
- Ask the Sphinx – 2 approaches
- Baggage Claim
- Beach Plum Jam
- Beau Dies
- between spiders
- Burnt Wood – for Bubi
- Conversation With A Ladle
- Coyote in the Headlights
- Coyote in the House
- Crow’s Song
- Daybreak
- Death Factories
- Death of the Dolphin
- Furry Bug
- Gospel of the Redwoods
- Insects in Amber
- It: In Honor of Dr. Seuss
- Journey to Standing Rock
- Kevin Garnett in Africa
- Life among the barbarians
- Long ago, perhaps yesterday
- Mandalay Hills
- Mesquite Dunes
- Miles’ Ashes
- Miles’ Journey
- My First Yoga Teacher
- One Drop of Rain
- Salton Sea
- Self Love
- Sunrise
- The Love Life of Clams
- Throwing Away
- Turn up for Turnips – a song
- Uncle Sol
- What The Stones Say
- when spring arrives ice flows out of the bay
- Whispering Among The Gods
- Willow
- Winter Fog
- Work and Love are What Really Matter: a reunion poem for the BHS class of 1958 reunion