I am heartbroken after the latest events in Israel. The murderous terrorist attack by Hamas on October 7, 2023, opened a wound in my heart that I don't know when and how I will ever recover from. In this time, when it seems that no words can describe the terrible loss and the injustice, I now find solace in poetry.
Many Hebrew poets have written over the years about sorrow and death, terror and wars, starting with Chaim Nachman Bialik in his poem "About the Slaughter" (a poem that is being quoted a lot these days), Nathan Alterman in "The Silver Platter" and "Parking Night" as well as Yehuda Amichai in the painfully short poem "Rain Over The Battlefield." Somehow, with indescribable powers, out of the inferno, these poets managed to bring out mournful words and emotions that clearly describe the shock, the fear, and the horror in light of the most harmful things humanity can perpetrate.
On the other side of the war poem equation, the poet Leah Goldberg's profound poem "Is It True" is placed. Even though Goldberg wrote this poem a few years prior to World War II, it was added to a magazine organized by the Association of Hebrew Writers named "Basa'ar" to send to the soldiers of the Jewish settlements during the war. Goldberg said that "it is more pleasant to hear the stupidest songs of the kindergarten than the sounds of cannons from the most advanced type" and refused to write militant poetry to encourage the soldiers' fighting spirit. Instead, she wrote a gentle and moving poem with hope for a better future. Her words are:
Is it true - will there ever be days with forgiveness and mercy?
And you will walk in the field, like a simple wanderer.
Your feet on the small leaves will be gently caressed,
Or the stings will be sweet, when you are stung by the rye's broken stalks,
Or the downpour will catch you as the raindrops pound,
On your shoulders, your breast, your neck, and your mind will be clear.
You will walk the wet field, and the silence fills you -
Like the light that lines a cloud.
And you breathed in the furrows, a breath calm and even,
And you saw the sun in the reflection of the golden puddle,
And the things will be simple and alive, and it is permitted to touch them,
And permitted, and permitted to love.
You will walk in the field by yourself, never scorched by the heat,
Of the fires on the paths paved with horror and blood,
And in your heart you again will humbly surrender,
Like one blade of grass, like one of humanity.
We all have to remind ourselves occasionally that we are permitted to love. We all have to remind ourselves that even if the rye's broken stalks sting our feet, even this sting can be sweet. We all have to remind ourselves that there is and will be silence in us, like the light that lines in a cloud. Goldberg does not surrender to war and sorrow. She manages to maintain cautious optimism and see the end of suffering.
I am not Leah Goldberg, unfortunately. These days, my poems are hard, bitter, and sad. I'm surprised that I managed to write at all because, as I said in the beginning, in these times, words go silent. However, poetry can metaphorically or symbolically describe the pain I feel without falling into an intellectual discussion on the subject. Poetry focuses entirely on the emotions and feelings that the events left me with, without the need to try to reason or explain them. All this makes the sorrow bearable.
Therefore, if you are ready for it, in such a challenging and complex period, go to a notebook or computer and write down your feelings. Write whatever you want: a poem, a story, a few sentences, anything that will allow you to express your feelings. It doesn't have to be a masterpiece. It should serve you and enable you to take the pain out of the system. I am convinced that it would help you as this writing helped me.
And if you want, share what you wrote here in the comments.
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