My Californian Sukkah down below is filled with youthful voices,
while I up here watch shimmering olive leaves and lie
basking in diaspora sun
reading about my grandfathers:
prisoners of the Pale, the pious,
Cabbalists, Maskilim, Bundists,
Capitalists, Zionists, dreamers,
Kibbutzniks, fighters, well-diggers,
wishful-thinkers.
My sons and daughters downstairs with their eager voices
Approach my impasse as I must have done,
As once my grandparents set their sights on Zion,
Forsaking history and prayer, taking up arms and hoes,
Tools of head and hand,
Purse and persuasion, hearts hardened to their foes,
With Jews’ determination,
Calling it miracles.
LRH
10.9.06 Ch. H’M Sukkot.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
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