Spotlights roam the
semi-black sky
already lit by the city,
making dull the glorious colors
in the air.

The beep, the bop,
the whirling twist of hand
and foot—to deftly guide
the so-called “celebration”
into someone’s head—
and lest they forget,
a bash in the face should do…

They call it fun and freedom
Some people think it is liberty,
but the beep, the bop,
and heavy mascara;
music, clapping, and shouts,
a song, a siren, a dance…
food, screams and laughter
do not protect

a boy in fighting green,
bewildered by this “sacred” day
lays his head to rest
against cold iron
that will warm his thoughts
one last time,
leaving the beep and bop
for the mindless living.

 

Israeli Independence Day, 1990

This poem was inspired the tragic suicide of a young soldier in Israel in 1990.