MY ISRAEL BY CANTOR LAUREN ADESNIK

MY ISRAEL
THE STILL MIDNIGHT WAS BROKEN BY OUR LAUGHTER AND AMAZEMENT
WE STAND INTO OUR HISTORY,
WHITE STONE GLOWING GOLD AGAINST THE BLACKNESS.
THE SCAMPERING OF STRAY CATS.

WHITE OR BLACK.
GREY IS NOT A COLOR WHERE I LIVE IN JERUSALEM.
CHILONI OR DATI- SECULAR OR RELIGIOUS.
ISRAELI, JEW, ARAB, PALESTINIAN, CHRISTIAN,
NONE OF THE ABOVE
ALL OF THE ABOVE.
human.
THE CACOPHONY OF LANGUAGE PUSHES ME FORWARD THROUGH THE THRONG AT THE SHUK
EXOTIC SPICE PERMEATES MY PALATE ON SHABBOS.
EYES BORE AT MY BACK ON MY SHABBOS RUN THROUGH REHAVIA
IPOD SOUND TRAILS IN MY WAKE

A SETTLER’S BATTLE HYMN,
A SONG OF DEFIANCE
A PEACE ACTIVIST’S PROTEST FOR THE ANCIENT OLIVE BRANCH
IS A PRAYER FOR A SURVIVAL
GROUNDED IN RESPECT, NATURE, AND HUMANITY.

A WOMAN SINGS AT THE WESTERN WALL.
EYES CLOSED, WRAPPED IN THE FOLDS OF HER MOTHER’S SARAH, REBECCA, RACHEL, AND LEAH
SHE HOLDS A TORAH CLOSE TO HER HEART.

THE EXTREMES CAN PRESS IN LIKE THICK HUMID HAIFA AIR.
I BREATHE EASIER OUT OF JERUSALEM’S WALLS, YET I AM CALLED TO HER GOLDEN, HOLY
OUTSTRETCHED ARMS. THEY RESONATE IN TONELESS AND VIBRANT INVITATION.
SWEET SONGS THAT DRAW TETHERING TIDES TOWARD HOME.