Winners of the Kehillah Poetry Contest!
An End
By Mark Treitel ('16)
When the battle is over, and both have lost, we’ll stand
Facing each other, uniforms mostly clean, streaks of sweet,
Burning lifeblood on the face, the chest, and in the hair.
Much will be unspoken. Musketballs do not easily become words,
Nor trails of fire in the sky, nor the long, steaming barrel of the cannon,
A hot, hot thing growing cold in peace and solitude.
We will be civilized. I will, at least, and I trust you for that.
There will be an exchange of prisoners, the soldiers
Whose laughing, unkempt, vaguely beautiful faces
Had become features of our camps. I will keep silent
My heavy artillery, will not load it with those irretrievable
Shells you gave me so long ago, a fit of passion.
And we will salute each other. Not from any affection,
But as equals, veterans of the same war, who have
Breathed deep the smoky air together. Then we will depart.
There are many more engagements in the world.
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Reflecting
April 2016
By Rebecca Spin ('17)
Sometimes I find myself reflecting
Spiraling deeper and deeper into my own mind
Hidden in the folds of my own brain
Tracing the creases of thought with idle hands
Sometimes I remember that
Time is finite
And it is endless
We can never truly reach tomorrow
As it will always be today
Every second is a new one
Every minute has never occurred before
Every hour is sparkling and different
And no second of time
Will ever
Occur
Again
And then I wonder what I am having for lunch.
Sometimes I consider the fact that
Children are born every second
And we were all born only to die
Everything that is so important to us
In the grand scheme of things, means nothing
We love
And we hate
And we cry
And we matter
To no one but ourselves
And then I realize I have half of a research paper left to write.
Sometimes I find myself reflecting
And then I am pulled, forcibly from the confines of my mind
Yanked away from my own thoughts
Saved from the danger of thinking
Too
Much
And instead, I am left to wonder
How long it has been since I last did my laundry.
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Heart, Soul, and Judaism
By Eden Churi ('18)
Going to an ice cream store
A group of boys throw glass at my feet.
I ask why.
They say, "Because you're Jewish filth!"
Shock swirls around my mind,
Anger rises in my throat,
I want to fight back.
"Go back to the chambers!" They yell.
Tears prick my eyes and I want to scream.
But I don't,
I don't.
They throw pennies at me, shouting
"Crawl for it, Jew!"
I want to hurl myself at them in a violent fury.
I want to defend the religion I cling to so closely.
But a calm Jewish girl doesn't fight.
A good Jewish girl keeps to herself.
A quiet Jewish girl is respectful.
So I remain silent
And walk away.
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The Question
By Kyle Tomplinson ('18)
The question that broods in every corner
A phantom that hangs like an empty plea
It brushes against our dry, cracked skin and
Leaves us lost, leering at an endless sea.
The question sets in, a deep purple fog.
Seeps in and whispers in unknowing ears.
It shakes us awake with cold sweat on necks
And stirs over dizzying unknown fears.
The question beckons, makes us ask its name,
But it replies not and it floats away.
The clock ticks forward and the shutters sigh,
Grey light rises, the solemn mark of day.
The question that is known, not understood,
Do you see what it is I’ve sensed so well?
What is that question? – you think, or shout
The answer to that I shall never tell.