My Poetry: the haunting

Readers,

I am always writing poetry, on my phone, on scraps of paper, in my head...it is a decades-long habit. I’ve decided to share with you the occasional poem - to share my tears, laughter, and rage with you during these unsettled times. See below.

the haunting

in southern Hebron
in the neighborhood of Khallat al-Qaba
a child clutches her mother
wrapped in blankets
sleepless, sobbing
the stark memory of the Israeli soldier
barking orders
her pale naked mother trembling
in front of the unleashed dogs
the snarling dogs.

in southern Gaza
in Deir al-Balah camp
a child wets his bed
again
the dust grey faces of his sisters
the fractious memory of the missile
trapped under crumpled rubble
the scattered limbs
the thunder
the crashing thunder.

our papers explode
with glittery news of
a celebrity wedding
the president rants
his $16 million reflecting pool
filled with green goo.

patriots strut
bands parade
fighter jets tear across the sky
cage fights are the new face of America.

it’s the Fourth of July
we think we are alive
as we turn our rapt faces
toward booming fireworks
and chug another beer.

our consciences
blind
and
deaf
as stone
in red, white, and blue.

to those of you
who say, “Not me!”

do you lie awake
haunted by the faces
of ghost children grabbing for bread
or the defunding of
education
science
health care right here
in 21 st century USA?

are you out in the streets
protesting, protesting?

or are you sleepwalking
sipping another glass of chardonnay
in garden green, ocean blue, and nonbinary pink.

Alice Rothchild