The Children, or, The Book of Life

September 17, 2020 § Leave a comment

I came to Jerusalem to confront G-d.

Not in anger but of pure, blind curiosity.

How does he justify his actions, his creation?

Instead I began to write in Jerusalem, and I wrote about the people.

The people who hate me for no reason, out of jealousy, spite or rage. The kind of hate that can only be removed by me being removed, all of me. My presence, my memory, my name in the book of life. Hatred wipes us out, one at a time.

Little sister, big sister, queen bee, broken bee.

We came from one mother, but we are never to reunite, in any lifetime.

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