This piece is part of our Witnessing series, which shares pieces from Israeli authors and authors in Israel, as well as the experiences of Jewish writers around the globe in the aftermath of October 7th.
It is critical to understand history not just through the books that will be written later, but also through the first-hand testimonies and real-time accounting of events as they occur. At Jewish Book Council, we understand the value of these written testimonials and of sharing these individual experiences. It’s more important now than ever to give space to these voices and narratives.
The Year the Jewish Poets Disappeared
It wasn’t as in the distant years,
when we were lined against a wall
or marched through forests in the east.
This time, we weren’t buried
with poems in our pockets
to sprout like cabbages among the dirt.
But certain themes persisted.
There were shouts of useful slogans
in the streets. Our houses trembled like old men,
and we told stories only to ourselves
of all the other buildings shuddering
through centuries. A few of us
were good and well-behaved, permitted
to remain a little longer than the rest.
As for our words, they were like
an emptied city. They were like a room
painted over — nothing was left of us
but smears in the undercoat, our small,
tenacious shadows still seen
in certain pointed angles of the light.
The views and opinions expressed above are those of the author, based on their observations and experiences.
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