When the missiles fly
By Shloime Richler
When the missiles fly and when the sirens cry
when people jump and things drop
when people run to safety and things we cease to see
when means dissolve
when justifications are of no need
The means to life are of no use now
what use when we must hold up the end itself?
justifications for our existence, for whom must they justify?
there is no judge at the bomb shelter door asking “by what means do you justify your safety?”
Safety, safety from death
that is all that we want
that is all that we chase
we don’t love death but life
Life is what we love, how ironic, how revolutionary
now it’s not a given, not a given to love life itself
but us, for us, it is, how lucky we are, how lucky that we run to life
it is life to whom we run to, whom we run to when we run to take cover.
Suddenly we all need the same thing
suddenly we all say it is life
it is life that is us
it is life that we love and cherish
it is life that is the end to our means
it is being itself that is worth saving
it is our bare existence that is worth running for
Then the rockets fall
the booms can be heard
heard by our ears but more in our hearts
they shatter, they destroy, they kill.
How we must cry. How we must weep.
how we must cry as loud as the sirens did cry
we cry for death and we cry for destruction
we shed tears and please not these bare words
But life
life is still what we love
life is still what we cherish
life is still our trophy to hold up for all of eternity.
