There is a lot of talk about a human chain,
Great hope
sealed with those body parts,
in those hands,
There are stairs -
to different recognition sections.
I spread my hands to you
My soul is like a tired country,
my eyes are pleading,
The mountains answer me
Echo voice.
The mountains of Jerusalem are far away,
And here are the golden dunes
They give me back light that was intended
for the future to come,
Crocodile tears break me.
Returning to the sukkah of his skin
of leviathan that vomited here on its shores
Jonah the prophet,
the dove of peace.
She is dead - that's what they think
the bones of hope,
dried up in that oblivion.
I want a house without thinking
Wants to live without being
An example of a demagogue landscape pattern.
In the sum of it all, there is one small settlement,
Scared of a way too long,
On a white donkey
anointed of war,
and believe,
Always a believer
Morag, 24 in Tammuz 5644
A song by Tamar Gilboa following the deportation from Gush Katif, which took place these days 17 years ago. From the book of poems "In the place where I buried root" which is seeing light these days in the series "The Silver Wire" for new poetry from the house of "The Returner of the Spirit"
were we wrong
We will fix it!
If you found an error in the article, we would appreciate it if you shared it with us