I am “off” for some days. That is to say: Last night, I woke up from dreams of explosions, and throughout the last days, my thoughts have flicked constantly, in the screen behind my eyes, to Gaza or Nahal Oz or Jerusalem. But I have made an effort to spend less time on the internet and on the computer, and I cannot attend any demonstration or action or meeting or protest: I am in Ohio, in the incredible town in which I was raised, Yellow Springs. Unless there is some thought or words-series that burns in such a way that I have no choice but to free it, I’m not going to write for the next week or two. In the meantime, here is a poem I wrote about this place, and along with it, a silent prayer that when I return to writing, in early September, there will be more glimmers of hope in my new-old home of Israel-Palestine than there have been over the past few months, and maybe along with them, more space for poems:
Off in Ohio
