Hebron (a poem)

 

On cobbled steps I sit and sigh

And watch the soldiers marching by.

A city shadowed dark with plight,

No bird can spread its wings in flight.

 

This morn, I passed a funeral,

The guests act like a tribunal

For the dead man in the coffin,

This used to happen so often.

 

The balcony– I lean and see

A group of boys who’re young and free

A ball weaving within their feet,

I wonder which team will face defeat.

 

The games they play, often a few,

Forgetting that their homework’s due,

A father yells at his young son,

“Come back before the setting sun!”

 

The synagogue, a place of light—

I did not go in all my plight,

My mind’s all cloudy since I’ve woke,

My faith had faded into smoke.

 

The empty house across from mine;

A house of webs without a shine,

Although no people, there’s a host,

A quiet one; merely a ghost.

 

On cobbled steps I sit and sigh,

Holding back the urge to cry.

Just trying to live, getting by;

My wings are clipped, I cannot fly.

 

 

Author’s statement: 

First and foremost, I’m not an Israeli nor am I Jewish, and if there are any mistakes, please let me know!

Back in high school, we learned about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict for our Modern History subject.  It was intriguing and eye-opening (and honestly, I thought Israel and Palestine were their own respective lands, but look how wrong I was!)

So, I wanted to write a creative piece about the anxieties of living in a city with a history of violence, and I wanted to explore the feeling of isolation too.  If I do a lot more research on the topic, then maybe I might adapt this piece into a short story.

 

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