Missiles

A poem written by my friend Kushal Poddar, inspired by a shrot story of mine.

The short story "Missiles or no missiles" I've written somewhat after the second Lebanon war, and posted it on Gather.com

My dear friend the poet Kushal Poddar has posted this poem inspired by my short story and dedicated it to me.

Thankful to my dear friend Kushal and very proudly I post it for your examination (and enjoyment I hope), on the eve of our second holiday that completes Passover eight days.

 

 

 

 

Missiles

(To Haim)
The Strategic Advisors have a vice of
playing controlled games;

desert is a crisscross of footprints;
movements are led by two hands.
Those hands built the cities,
bent the rivers,
parted the oceans,
promised us milk and honey,
performed miracles on the stone engravings.

: Papa, see a shooting star
: wish, your bones;
wish to be an exhibit in a museum.
Natural history of mankind.


We watch the shooting stars blast our walls;
the dust makes us cough;
we sleep under a million lights,
coughing and coughing.
We are in an era of light,
surrounded by flames,
wall-less.

The next level is another game
somebody else plays.

© Copyright All Reserved By Kushal Poddar