Welcome: If you have a moment, before exploring, please read the poem “His Blood,” my first published work. It was written during the First Lebanon War, and was printed right after the war in the literary supplement of the Israeli daily newspaper, On Guard.
In the shadow of foreign groves, his body was chopped;
his image was lost amidst the smoke of an alien war.
Farewell, my son
In a struggle he wasn’t born to fight, his beauty was ruined;
his eyes were blinded by visions he wasn’t meant to see.
Farewell, my brother
Over burning fields and darkening dunes, his spirit hovered;
his soul towards different worlds ascended.
Farewell, my friend
Not violent he was, nor consumed by vengeance and hate.
He was just a lad.
His blood soaked a land not his.
The world is a “very narrow bridge,” the saying goes; so here’s another poem to smooth your way.
MY CHILDHOOD’S SEA
My childhood sustains me in my
adulthood, and here’s why:
When I see a brown summer road,
crossing a field carpeted with green grass,
and bordered by a tall cypress grove;
I imagine a narrow white path trailing
away from it, leading down to a yellow sandy beach, beyond which lies only the wide blue sea.
My journey ends there, on the shore of my childhood’s sea,
where the waves recognize my small footprints;
where the breeze remembers my innocent smile;
where the realm of my memories and dreams begins.
By Hillel F. Damron. To contact him, click here