It’s not doubt keeping me awake,
it’s wretched fear, a raw reality
scratching the surface of night,
peeling away layers, layers,
until every day reveals a new
light dimmer than yesterday’s.
It’s coming! That dawn of darkness,
they bark and my blood curdles
with hate, deep old old hate,
on the screen one appears, clad
always black, always the knife.
I laugh I laugh at their belief
that we will ever end,
but at night I stop laughing.
Will He hide?
Will He avenge?
I know truth older than time.
He only decides the terror
not knowing is He for us\or
against us is this the glorious Beginning?
Or is blood yet a reminder of sins?
I laugh at the nuisance
the sight of another Pharaoh,
a Haman\ preaching soon to be hanged
or washed away in deep waters of the red sea.
I laugh at comical messengers, madmen puppets…
Hashem is calling out Teshuva!
And they think we fear their sword?
I fear His sword, His wrath —
and I need Him to forgive, to forget,
to bring hope back to a hopeless humanity.
But I can not sleep.
Even as the dark
closes in like something
alive and hunting.
Because
what if?
if my children?
My yellow stars,
my doorpost a yellow star,
my kerchief a yellow star,
I am a proud yellow star,
my pride and my prayer,
my laughter my fear:
my only weapons against the knife,
the vest the sword the fire
the curses the cars the missiles
the bloodcurdling calls
for our death.
