Yearning Poem by Peter Eliastam

Father, slake the thirsting
Of the Sabra searching for the
Pulp of pity in the outward rind
And gall of all the trash-cans
And the litter of the city.

Father, stem the tidal wave
Of the macabre. Neighbours in
Jerusalem are skewered on the sabre
Of the cactus-thorn. Mercy died
HaShem. Brave mothers mourn.

Father heed the wailing
In the warren of the bitter-born
Of the Diaspora. Gift them God-speed
Scope of the prevailing winds
And hope of joy.