March 31, 2021 § 1 Comment

One overriding theme of this Pesah has been just how dirty the natives are. They love to get their fingers grubby and mess up all your stuff. If they’re not growing mosquito farms in your mirpeset, they’re probably hatching cockroach eggs under the shade of your dude shemesh. Everything grows, lives, and is given its rightful place. Even the grubby little natives.


March 30, 2021 § Leave a comment

My empire of dirt

Is a reality that I live with-
A living reality.

It heaves and breathes and wants to be more, more.

I push it back, I say, you are more than the sea. This should not be.

And the dirt sighs, and looks scolded.

Sedernacht Hugged Me

March 28, 2021 § 2 Comments

I received my first hug from a female friend I had not seen in two years, stopping by their home returning from a cosy seder with a cosy-mosy family.

My first impulsive hug. The first post-pandemic embrace. Light at the end of the tunnel. In a shocking second, my soul and my heart and my body reconnected in that warm embrace. The parts of me I had compartmentalised this year in order to emotionally survive…sprang into life…bloomed…flowered…blossomed…yielded fruit.

Now it’s time to harvest, heal, and count that omer.

I think the part that most amused me…

When I knock-knock-knocked on their door, and the children shouted…Eliyahu!

Alas…it was another Eli, but she sufficed.

My wish for this omer period…may we pass over, meaningfully, equipped with new knowledge and insight, to a post-pandemic chapter, and may we heal, heal, heal.

Deep Pit

March 20, 2021 § 2 Comments

I live in a land where black crows come
Every morning
To pick over the bones of last night’s arguments.

These black crows, always hovering. We can never be free of them. They are not kotel-nesting pigeons. They live in the shadow-land, the shadow of the state of Israel.

And they pick, pick, pick.

Shema Israel, listen to the picking.

I’ve warned you once, I cannot be the one to show my people the dark clouds brewing.

I’m merely here in passing.

The Sheitel Effect

March 14, 2021 § Leave a comment

When a young lady takes her wig off and instantly ages forty years…the sheitel effect.


March 11, 2021 § 2 Comments

Something inside- something.

I desperately need to weep and I find myself on the tayelet at 4am, saying kaddish out into the moonlit sea for Sarah Everard, for a lovely young woman cut down, slayed like a deer, by a Scotland Yard officer.

I find myself hating a man I have never met, a burning hatred, I hate, I project years of abuse and aggression and sexual harassment and rape that I suffered in my twenties, and I compress all of my anger, my life’s true work, and I focus on his image.

And I release. I step back from the trauma.

May Sarah’s memory be a blessing and a comfort to her family.

On a side note, may we please halt the celebration of tokenistic UN holidays and International Women’s Day, and please, please, ground ourselves.

Address the everyday assaults, the women in shelters, the men preying on women across the beaches of Israel. This country is beginning to lose itself in a toxic wasteland.

Or perhaps, we have already lost it.

I may be sardonic, but somehow this is not enough for me.

March 9, 2021 § 2 Comments

New Life

March 5, 2021 § 4 Comments

My narrow little mind
Has a limited grasp of time
And its passage.

My memory scarred by trauma, forgets even itself.

It is strange that in this bed, one year later, on this cold winter night, I wake up, and I feel you breathing tiny breaths in the dark beside me. A little warm bundle by my shoulder.

The little girl who lived inside me for a short time, and then was gone.

How long will we continue to haunt each other, my little love? Until the promise I made you comes to be?

My little light. I fear to replace you, I fear to forget you.

Grief, guilt, punishment.

But my body is marching towards Spring and cleaning and healing and Sedernachts.

Today is the day I start to pray for new life.

Nature I

March 5, 2021 § Leave a comment

Somebody tell the sunrise birds:

If they wish to sing
Should they need to sing

They need my written permission.

Signed, stamped and dated.

For their music is an illicit bullet
Shot into the dark, winter night
In an ideological defense of summer and nature.

It witnesses that life has survived,


If we’re being honest…

March 4, 2021 § 1 Comment

Let me tell you about my Judaism.

When I was a little girl riding a train with my father, I once saw a poster for a film. The title of the film was so beautiful, that it shocked me to my soul. The film was entitled ‘Through a Glass Darkly’.

I had to wait many years, decades, even, to see that film.

Watching as an adult, I grew quickly impatient. The film contained not one idea, communicated not one thing, that was of interest to me. It’s name was beautiful, but its contents wholly irrelevant.

My relationship with my Judaism is similar. Complicated, but similar. From afar, it appears beautiful, intriguing, mystical.

When you sit down to see the full film, you soon realise how irrelevant it is, and you are frustrated that you will never get those two hours of your life back.

I gave my youth to my Judaism. That was my korban.

Where Am I?

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