Tikkun Olam
Repair the World
A Jewish-American perspective
In this gash of a globe, I stand — an anomaly,
An American Jew, breathing fury, a silent cacophony,
My heart's in the West but my conscience bleeds over a distant land's plight,
Palestine, oh Palestine, your sufferings bellow through the starless night.
They say I should wear my Star of David, wear it, they insist, with pride,
But how can I, when your olive trees are bulldozed, roots cast aside?
Your children, oh Semitic siblings, shadows under an endless sky,
Their laughter lost in the rubble of injustice, and, God, how I cry.
In synagogues, they preach of a land promised, a covenant divine,
But where in those sacred, ancient verses does it justify your decline?
I'm grappling with this rage, this title, this faith that I wear,
When each "breaking news" is a fresh nightmare, a new layer of despair.
Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, city of shared blood, you're not just mine,
Your stones weep with centuries, your walls ache for a peaceful sign,
From Exodus to Nakba, histories clash in a thunderous wave,
But it's not a mandate from above that peoples' homes should be their grave.
In the echo of my tradition, there's a whisper of "Tikkun Olam," repair,
But where's the healing in occupation, tell me, where's the godly care?
My anger's a menorah lit, not just eight nights, but every day,
For every checkpoint, every tear, every future they strip away.
Don’t label me a traitor, don’t you dare, I’m not the one who deceives,
I’m just a Jew who believes in humanity over territorial pleas.
And I’ll scream, though my voice cracks, till justice waters this parched sand,
For you, Palestine, your olive branches tremble in the demanding wind.
I support the freedom of the people of Palestine, I support the people in Israel that understand the truth (past and presently) I support all my brothers and sisters Jewish, Muslim and Christian the same.
