Poetica Magazine, Reflections of Jewish Thought

May 1, 2008

"Woman Fighter After Capture, During The Warsaw Ghetto Uprising"

by Aqiva Kenny Segan

The Streets of Munich (July 31, 2001)

by Lindsay Soberano-Wilson

I could spit on this soil and love it . . . spit on every street corner and every brick

that ever opressed Jews with hatred . . . I could stand centre stage in the middle of

Marienplatz and scream with God's deserted children . . . here in the streets of Munich . . .

I want to paint Stars of David on all of their faces and dance a naked dance of anguish, and freedom . . .

I could shout "Heil Hitler" just for the response . . .  something . . .  anything to shake them up and let them know I know and I won't forget . . .

I could rip that Nazis Raus graffiti I saw across the street from the Hofbrauhaus ... I could shake every last living - I see them . . .

. . .  All of the Lady Macbeths walking the streets of Munich with red stained palms: peeling, rubbing, washing, covering, scrubbing, scratching, burning -

I could ask questions to strangers who look guilt ridden enough: Who are you? Where were you? What do you remember?

Tell me your goddamn story! I'm listening . . .

I hope you know we all carry gravestones - grave-stones . . . in our hearts, and they . . . they weigh us down . . . they weighed us down . . . down into the barracks . . . down into the gas . . . six feet under . . . six million later - and still ... still we are a light unto the nations -

and still . . . still I think I found something here . . . here in the streets of Munich, something that looks like           forgiveness . . .

Lindsay Soberano-Wilson holds a Bachelors of Arts degree in English and Creative Writing from Concordia University and a Masters of Arts degree in English from the University of Toronto. Her poetry, fiction, and non-fiction have been published in various Canadian publications, such as The Jewish Tribune, The Canadian Jewish News, Quills Canadian Poetry Magazine, Running with Scissors, Canadian Woman Studies Journal, and Yalla Journal. She teaches high school English and Drama in Toronto.

May 10, 2008

Courtesy of the IDF

Stones and Bones

Why do you stay? they ask.

The stones and bones of this place give me beauty.

I am made of this earth. I came.

I am made - will not return.

I make a garden of this land

flower the stones and bones.

I came. I am here.

Why do you stay? they ask.

I have risen     I would say

from the stones with the bones.

They do not know that I wear this land.

The stones and bones are my jewels.

They do not know.

Rochelle Mass, a Canadian born, moved to Israel in l973 with her husband and two young daughters.  After living in Kibbutz Beit HaShita in the Jezre'el Valley for 25 years, she and her husband now live in a small community crawling up the western flank of the Gilboa mountains where they cure and press their own olives.  Rochelle is the author of three poetry collections, the most recent,The Startled Land (Wind River Press). Belmont Street, (prose) to appear in 2008 (Wind River Press). Rochelle is a two-time Pushcart nominee.

June 1, 2008

April 20 - 27, 2008

"Miriam's Song: Celebrating the Crossing of the Sea"

by Laura Bolter

Who Will Ask The Four Questions?

       by Gilda Kreuter

Brisket simmers, turkey bakes, I am almost ready

for the Passover Seder. I arrange the Seder plate

like a uniform: the hard-boiled egg, the roasted shank bone,

leaf fresh green parsley, bitter herbs of fresh horseradish,

and my favorite, charoses, apples, nuts, cinnamon, mixed with wine,

as I chop and taste, taste and chop, taste again.

I prepare the plate of matzohs, cover it with a cloth,

pour the Manischewitz into a large wine cup for Elijah, the prophet.

My grandfather always made me gaze at that wine cup

when he opened the door of his Brooklyn apartment to let Elijah

in to bestow his blessings; as the red liquid shimmered

in the breeze, he cried out, "See, Elijah is drinking."

Grandpa would lean on his pillow; we squirmed in our

seats during the long night, as the ritual tale

of the exodus of the Jews from Egypt was read from

the Maxwell House Haggadah; we dipped our fingers in wine

ten times when we read about the ten plagues,

my cousin David, in his deep bass voice, sang "Let My People Go."

A piece of Matzoh was hidden, and the youngest at the table,

eleven-year-old Eugene, asked the Four Questions,

"Mah Nishtanoah?"

"Why is this night diffrent from all other nights?"

We ate the belly-bursting meal, drank wine in the proper places,

sang "Dayenu" with a roar, and someone always found the

hidden matzoh and got a prize.

This was all before gefilte fish came in a jar,

Matzo ball soup was packaged in a box,

ready-mix sponge cake found its way to the table,

and stuffed cabbage was bought at Glick's Take Out.

Tonight I prepare for the Passover Seder,

children, grandchildren, cousins, scattered at school,

at work, Bermuda-bound; last year the youngest at

the table was fifty-one and he asked the Four Questions,

"Mah Nishtanoh?"

"Why is this night diffrent from all other nights?"

I set the table with my mother's tablecloth,

polish the silver candlestick, take off my apron,

wait for my guests and wonder who tonight will ask

the Four Questions.

"Mah Nishtanoh?"

Gilda Kreuter was a journalism major at Brooklyn College. She has published four books of poetry, Closets, Craked Masks, The Nature of Things, and The Elusive Muse. Her latest work, Under The Soft Cover of Darkness, has just been published and is available for $15.00 by writing to gkreuter@huno.com. Her poems have been published in the Paterson Literary Review, Edison Literary Review, Sensations Magazine, Passager, and many anthologies.