I've grown so tired of it all, beyond any words. The only thing that articulates what I feel is this poem:
Temporary Poem of My Time/Yehuda Amichai (1924-2000)
Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west,
Latin writing, from west to east.
Languages are like cats:
You must not stroke their hair the wrong way.
The clouds come from the sea, the hot wind from the desert,
The trees bend in the wind,
And stones fly from all four winds,
Into all four winds. They throw stones,
Throw this land, one at the other,
But the land always falls back to the land.
They throw the land, want to get rid of it.
Its stones, its soil, but you can't get rid of it.
They throw stones, throw stones at me
In 1936, 1938, 1948, 1988,
Semites throw at Semites and anti-Semites at anti-Semites,
Evil men throw and just men throw,
Sinners throw and tempters throw,
Geologists throw and theologists throw,
Archaelogists throw and archhooligans throw,
Kidneys throw stones and gall bladders throw,
Head stones and forehead stones and the heart of a stone,
Stones shaped like a screaming mouth
And stones fitting your eyes
Like a pair of glasses,
The past throws stones at the future,
And all of them fall on the present.
Weeping stones and laughing gravel stones,
Even God in the Bible threw stones,
Even the Urim and Tumim were thrown
And got stuck in the beastplate of justice,
And Herod threw stones and what came out was a Temple.
Oh, the poem of stone sadness
Oh, the poem thrown on the stones
Oh, the poem of thrown stones.
Is there in this land
A stone that was never thrown
And never built and never overturned
And never uncovered and never discovered
And never screamed from a wall and never discarded by the builders
And never closed on top of a grave and never lay under lovers
And never turned into a cornerstone?
Please do not thorow any more stones,
You are moving tha land,
The holy, whole, open hand,
You are moving it into the sea,
And the sea doesn't want it,
The sea says, not in me.
Please throw little stones,
Throw snail fossils, throw gravel,
Justice or injustice from the quarries of Migdal Tsedek,
Throw soft stones, throw sweet clods,
Throw limestone, throw clay,
Throw sand of the seashore,
Throw dust of the desert, throw rust,
Throw soil, throw wind,
Throw air, throw nothing
Until your hands are weary
And the war is weary
And even peace will be weary and will be.
He was such a wise man and an incredibly gifted poet. There are some more translated poems of his
right here
.
lol:, a fence is good enough to keep terrorists away from UN staff but when its there to protect Israelis its an entirely different matter). It seems that the security situation has deteriorated after UN envoy Roed-Larsen was almost kidnapped my Arab Terror - sorry - Palestinain Activists who wanted to threaten his life in an attempt to pressure the Israeli Government. It is a tragic comedy the way that the UN courts terrorists and gives them precidence over much more deserving people that do not continue to deliberatly massacre civilians (such as the Kurds and Tibetans, both people who have had no success with terrorism and because of this left to fade away under real tyranny) but to have the UN envoy make comments against Arafat thus destabalising the PA and then having to pull out workers to Jerusalem is one of the more humorous turns in this whole sorry saga.
