Friday, January 24, 2014

After the War

After the War,
My grandfather had to decide:  United States of
America, or Israel.
(Or so the story goes.)
And he chose,
And his choice became mine
By default.

He had great dreams,
They all had great dreams:

Shedding the old to embrace
The new,
To start anew                       
In the Newland.
(Only the new soon resembled the old, but that’s another story.)

It took me twenty-six years
To overturn my grandfather’s decision.
(I recently read that America is the real home of the Jews.  Not
Sure about that, but the living here, summertime and all, is easy.)

The darn thing is this: I drown in my desire to return to Europe.
War and all.


  1. Epitomizing the Wandering Jew? Has it become an essential part of our being, our genes? Only the ones with the willingness and urge to constantly be on the move survived? (atleast in the Europian branch...)

  2. Interesting theory, but not what stands behind my desire to live in Europe. It's more of returning to the origin for me. And I'm not sure this origin is from my current lifetime; it might be connected to a life in which I might not have been a Jew at all.