This week's poem is my own "Meting Out Justification: A Military Judge's Testimony" published today in Blotterature's Propaganda issue. It's on page 12.
This poem is a found poem, so in a sense it's not really mine (so can I get away with using it as my weekly Israel-Palestine poem?). It comes from the documentary, The Law in These Parts, an examination of the system of military administration in place since the Six Day War in the Occupied Territories through interviews of Israeli judges, prosecutors, and military advisors. I highly recommend it if you're interested in human rights issues.
I've never had two poems published within a week of each other before! I feel very blessed!
And today it was nearly 60 degrees! Feels like spring!
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
Monday, February 19, 2018
"On Arafat's Yahrzeit"
It just so happens that my "On Arafat's Yahrzeit" was published today by HEArt Online Journal: Human Equity through Art! And as you can tell by the title, it's about Israel-Palestine, so I'm counting it as my poem for the week.
The long winter seems to be letting up, and we're in for a four-day spell of rain, complete with all manner of warnings. But it's rain! It won't be that cold! I've always read that peas don't mind a little snow, so today I went and did my best to plant peas in one of my soil's-only-frozen-in-the-corner raised beds. I rarely plant my peas early enough to be good and sick and them by the time it's time to pull them up and put in the green beans, so here's hoping. We'll see what happens. But probably because I didn't start artichokes in the basement this year (after two years of meager rewards), it felt good to have my hands in the dirt again.
The long winter seems to be letting up, and we're in for a four-day spell of rain, complete with all manner of warnings. But it's rain! It won't be that cold! I've always read that peas don't mind a little snow, so today I went and did my best to plant peas in one of my soil's-only-frozen-in-the-corner raised beds. I rarely plant my peas early enough to be good and sick and them by the time it's time to pull them up and put in the green beans, so here's hoping. We'll see what happens. But probably because I didn't start artichokes in the basement this year (after two years of meager rewards), it felt good to have my hands in the dirt again.
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Elana Bell's "There are things this poem would rather not say:"
This week's poem is Elana Bell's "There are things this poem would rather not say:"
I'm thinking about how American poets announce that their poems are about Israel/Palestine this week. I was thinking about some of Irena Klepfisz's poems and Ellen Bass's "Moonlight" and thought I would spend more time with how they announced -- or really located -- their subjects, but I discovered that I couldn't find these poems online. This brings up some interesting questions about which poems get posted online and why (that aren't specific to Israel/Palestine). So instead here is a poem that never actually announces that it is specifically Israel/Palestine, but all the specific markers are there. But by not actually naming Israel or Palestine, the poem also opens up to being about the situation -- of being a remorseful person who is a member/descendant of a colonizing and ruling force, which is, alas, a more common situation than being an Israeli or a Jew. This poem is almost an apology and gives me a lot to think about. For example, what would this poem look like if it were in the voice of an American speaker to Native Americans?
Enjoy!
By the way, I'm sorry about posting this late, but last night when posting this poem was the last thing left on my to-do list, my ear started to ache; I decided rest was the best thing.
I'm thinking about how American poets announce that their poems are about Israel/Palestine this week. I was thinking about some of Irena Klepfisz's poems and Ellen Bass's "Moonlight" and thought I would spend more time with how they announced -- or really located -- their subjects, but I discovered that I couldn't find these poems online. This brings up some interesting questions about which poems get posted online and why (that aren't specific to Israel/Palestine). So instead here is a poem that never actually announces that it is specifically Israel/Palestine, but all the specific markers are there. But by not actually naming Israel or Palestine, the poem also opens up to being about the situation -- of being a remorseful person who is a member/descendant of a colonizing and ruling force, which is, alas, a more common situation than being an Israeli or a Jew. This poem is almost an apology and gives me a lot to think about. For example, what would this poem look like if it were in the voice of an American speaker to Native Americans?
Enjoy!
By the way, I'm sorry about posting this late, but last night when posting this poem was the last thing left on my to-do list, my ear started to ache; I decided rest was the best thing.
Monday, February 5, 2018
Taha Muhammad Ali's "Exodus"
This week's poem is Taha Muhammad Ali's "Exodus."
Last week I was thinking a lot about how I come to poems by Palestinian and Israeli poets with an expectation that I'll find traces of the conflict. If I don't find them, as in last week's poem, then I mark the silence. In Amichai's poem, this silence can be seen as privilege. But of course all poets write about many things; while it's safe to assume that a poet may speak to his/her own oppression or specific historical situation, it's not required. What's more, every trace of conflict in a Palestinian poet's poem may not be the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
When reading Taha Muhammad Ali's poem, it seems safe to assume that those who refuse to leave are Palestinians. And this may be true. But there are interesting complicating factors. The poem's title, "Exodus," has a particularly Jewish cast to it, at least to me, Exodus being the name of the book of what most people think of as the great Jewish story in the Torah/Bible -- the story of Passover, the most important holiday in the Jewish year. (Probably most Jews will agree that Passover is most important; but not all. After all, two Jews, three opinions!) At the same time, the Biblical story of Exodus was a story of leaving, not of refusing to leave, not cleaving to the land. But then there's the interesting date at the end of the poem "5.11.1983." When I look up May 11, 1983, I don't see anything. Maybe this has personal rather than political significance. But when I look up November 5, 1983, inverting the month and day as people in the Middle East do (I remember this from when I lived for a short time in Cairo), I see that's the date when a truck loaded with explosives crashed through the entrance of an Israeli compound in Tyre, Lebanon, setting off a bomb, killing 39 people and injuring more. Muslim Jihad claimed responsibility. Israel responded by striking Palestinian targets on the Beirut-Damascus Highway. So if we bring the specifics of this particular set of events into our reading of the poem, as may be suggested by the date, then who is refusing to leave? Is it the Palestinians? Is it the Israelis?
I don't know. But the poem is bigger than these answers. Enjoy!
Last week I was thinking a lot about how I come to poems by Palestinian and Israeli poets with an expectation that I'll find traces of the conflict. If I don't find them, as in last week's poem, then I mark the silence. In Amichai's poem, this silence can be seen as privilege. But of course all poets write about many things; while it's safe to assume that a poet may speak to his/her own oppression or specific historical situation, it's not required. What's more, every trace of conflict in a Palestinian poet's poem may not be the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
When reading Taha Muhammad Ali's poem, it seems safe to assume that those who refuse to leave are Palestinians. And this may be true. But there are interesting complicating factors. The poem's title, "Exodus," has a particularly Jewish cast to it, at least to me, Exodus being the name of the book of what most people think of as the great Jewish story in the Torah/Bible -- the story of Passover, the most important holiday in the Jewish year. (Probably most Jews will agree that Passover is most important; but not all. After all, two Jews, three opinions!) At the same time, the Biblical story of Exodus was a story of leaving, not of refusing to leave, not cleaving to the land. But then there's the interesting date at the end of the poem "5.11.1983." When I look up May 11, 1983, I don't see anything. Maybe this has personal rather than political significance. But when I look up November 5, 1983, inverting the month and day as people in the Middle East do (I remember this from when I lived for a short time in Cairo), I see that's the date when a truck loaded with explosives crashed through the entrance of an Israeli compound in Tyre, Lebanon, setting off a bomb, killing 39 people and injuring more. Muslim Jihad claimed responsibility. Israel responded by striking Palestinian targets on the Beirut-Damascus Highway. So if we bring the specifics of this particular set of events into our reading of the poem, as may be suggested by the date, then who is refusing to leave? Is it the Palestinians? Is it the Israelis?
I don't know. But the poem is bigger than these answers. Enjoy!
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