I wonder how humanity can be carried in a boat? Isn’t it supposed to be heavier, bigger?
Brutally beautiful, the whole batch of them. My favorite is 'The Body of Santa'
This poem feels like a voice trembling between gratitude and despair, reaching out across seas.
The bombs scorch not only bodies but the climate itself, turning heat into a metaphor for grief.
Eyes burn from sweat and genocide alike, blurring physical pain with unbearable moral witness.
The speaker likens himself and his friends to sacrificial sheep, stripped of dignity, renamed as korban.
History and religion are invoked Yahweh, Amalekite symbols twisted into the language of slaughter.
Distance becomes unbearable: he cannot even ask how his house looks from afar, too broken to hope.
The boat carrying “humanity” becomes a fragile metaphor, raising the question of whether humanity still exists.
He thanks Greta for carrying it, yet doubts what humanity means when he is treated as “human animal.”
The poem is both plea and indictment, exposing how violence erases identity and fractures belonging.
In its raw honesty, it asks us not only about Gaza, but about ourselves: what is human, and do we still deserve the name?
This poem cuts into me. Our only hope is to hear the voices of individuals, to understand how this is effecting the ONE and this poem does it. Strangely, it also brought to mind Noah's Ark, the boat, the twos, the ones.
Brutally beautiful, the whole batch of them. My favorite is 'The Body of Santa'
This poem feels like a voice trembling between gratitude and despair, reaching out across seas.
The bombs scorch not only bodies but the climate itself, turning heat into a metaphor for grief.
Eyes burn from sweat and genocide alike, blurring physical pain with unbearable moral witness.
The speaker likens himself and his friends to sacrificial sheep, stripped of dignity, renamed as korban.
History and religion are invoked Yahweh, Amalekite symbols twisted into the language of slaughter.
Distance becomes unbearable: he cannot even ask how his house looks from afar, too broken to hope.
The boat carrying “humanity” becomes a fragile metaphor, raising the question of whether humanity still exists.
He thanks Greta for carrying it, yet doubts what humanity means when he is treated as “human animal.”
The poem is both plea and indictment, exposing how violence erases identity and fractures belonging.
In its raw honesty, it asks us not only about Gaza, but about ourselves: what is human, and do we still deserve the name?
This poem cuts into me. Our only hope is to hear the voices of individuals, to understand how this is effecting the ONE and this poem does it. Strangely, it also brought to mind Noah's Ark, the boat, the twos, the ones.