Salman Masalha | DIRGE

 

Salman Masalha

DIRGE

Smoke pillars clothe the sky,
hills will hide behind the haze,
fear fills his mind, his pulse is high
and his heart is all ablaze.

Treading silent on the verge,
he envisions in his brain
as verses in his spirit surge:
a final dirge for distant days,

fleeting, long departed, cold,
of many nights and griefs unnamed.     
He counts hundreds, thousandfold,
numerous souls erased.

Images of infants and elders dead,
smashed, fragmented, broken clay,  
human leaves by ill winds sped,
Pride's captives blown away.

With all light in their eyes snuffed out,
little children consumed in flames,
extinguished in the ruined town
are ashes of dreams, the life of an age.

Pillars of smoke in hill and vale
rise as fires devour the remains.
Insatiable gluttony prevails,
yet begs for alms to keep its gains.

From there to here and back again,
from sea’s edge to riverbank,
Death’s display window is dressed
in gushing blood and pain.

Spring has passed and summer came.
This land weeps like the willow’s plaint.
The grandees seeing Death in place
know neither modesty nor grace.

translated by Vivian Eden

For Hebrew, press here

Read More

Vivian Eden | Our Lady to Gabriel

 

RE: the poem of 19 December 2024, “Our Lady of Palestine” (Culture Matters)

Vivian Eden

Our Lady to Gabriel

Dear Gabriel R.,

I rarely reply to people I don’t know            
    but maybe you’re that Gabriel from long ago
who interrupted me while I was trying to read,
    to inform me I was about to conceive
though betrothed to my cousin,* an older guy
    I wouldn’t have chosen had they let me try.

We managed. Joe Davidson was patient and kind
    and a good carpenter – our furniture was nice
and Jesus was a lovely, interesting child,
    clever, intense and sometimes quite wild
(don’t believe preachers who say he was mild),
    but I never had to tell him anything twice –

he respected me and wouldn’t have dared interrupt.
    He argued with anyone he knew was corrupt.
He was kind to animals and did them no harm
    and was blessed with great charisma and charm.
He grew up to be gentle, eloquent and wise
    and many people flocked to his side.

He preached love for all who live in the world
    though we weren’t sure he really liked girls,
which is fine. I’d have loved grandchildren on my knees
    but that, as you know, was never to be.
Of course I wept as he died in great pain –
    her dying child drives any mother insane

in Jerusalem, Gaza, Sudan or Ukraine
    Belfast, Syria – all without blame.
Nowadays I read much more than I pray
    but noblesse oblige, as they say –
I’ve been Our Lady, so your Lady I’ll stay,
    and intercede for those who, that October day,

were abducted, tortured, murdered and raped
    or later bombed, starved, blocked from escape,
losing homes, minds and maybe faith,
    because of fear, arrogance, greed and hate,
exploited by leaders, abandoned to fate,
     by men who’d end in Hell if it were a real place

where, post-death, all sinners get thrown,
    no matter how powerful, rich or well-known
but as a Jew and a reader, this I can tell:
      After this world, there is no Hell.
I wish all women, men and children good cheer –
    peace on Earth, health and a Happy New Year.

 

Yours,
BVM**
NOTES
* Both Joseph and Mary are said to be descended from the House of David.

Culture Matters

Read More