Saturday, February 21, 2026

Jerusalem

A poem by my father, Zeev Kachel

From the book Can We Still Love

Translated from Hebrew by Uvi


Jerusalem!

Towards you, pilgrims forged ahead day and night, in action, in vision, 

To you they devoted their soul, their passion and yearning.

Fathers, sons, and their descendants dreamt of you while in hiding

For millenniums of years in exile, darkness, oppression.


Jerusalem!

You were their flag and emblem, their heart’s prayer, their altar

They kept faith, boundless love for you, in fire and water,

While enduring grave insults, agony, and hardship.

To you they cried out when attacked by tribes of every stripe, for any cause, any blame

Their hands didn’t give up as they carried your Torah to people who knew not your name.

Footsteps steeped in blood, breast ripped by the cross, flesh by the whip,

The dust of all worldly roads settled over their scars,

Sacred letters fluttered out of burning scrolls held in their arms.


Jerusalem!

On nights of carnage and decimation, shielded by the cross,

A scant few believers went on revering you in secret, their lives bound for loss.

Even as they burnt at the stake of the Inquisition, or perished in prison,

Their blinded eyes beheld the glory, the City of David

And their souls went out with one last cry, unabated,

Out of water, out of fire… 

Next year in Jerusalem!


To you they carried their soul, even when locked in their tormentors’ dungeons

Throughout the crusades, with the cross festooned over their bosoms

Their limbs crushed by gyrations, by wheels of torture.

To you they dedicated their heart, as they were sacrificed to a godhead.

Your sole symbol, the Star of David, in their breast till the end

Their lives illuminated by a mystical spark ignited in rupture.


You were their flag and emblem in bunkers and in concentration camps,

In gas and coal chambers they mused of you, till drawing their last breath.

Now in the shade of walls in collapse, in the valley of the shadow of death 

They behold him: mounting his horse, here comes the Messiah.


Jerusalem of Above
Watercolor by Uvi Poznansky


Tuesday, February 3, 2026

Mommy

A poem by my father, Zeev Kachel

Translated from Hebrew by Uvi



You gave me life through pain and suffering

And in your bosom, I suckled my first milk 

You taught me, in the world’s arena, how to go on walking

And amongst the beasts, how not to blink.


You prayed in private for my health, wellbeing 

To a hidden God sitting in judgment over fates 

You sacrificed yourself and right from the beginning

Shielded me under your wings from any danger that awaits.


Still clinging to you despite being cut away, I wailed.

Wherever I went, I sensed your omnipresence.

I always felt, in the sea into which I sailed,

The warmth of motherhood, the chill of your absence.


For you, only you I cried as life turned bitter, Mommy.

On the snaking road, my heart aflame amidst the hurdles 

I was lured down by desires — till your image stood before me

Blocking off my path with a pair of the Sabbath candles.