I can’t believe it’s
a new year, again
it has crept up on me, softly, surreptitiously,
though the signs, of course, were written on the wall.
Signs are always written on walls, it’s the ancient pact
of graffiti makers, (God being the first one in Takel Takel),
vandalizers of walls, desecrators of mummified truths,
sometimes, Keith Haring like, they become
the heralds of fresh art, or the tokens of grief,
pain and disbelief, as the walls of City Hall, Rabin square
after November 4th, 1995.
What sign is written on my wall today?
Is it a blazing warning, a dark omen? No more
darkness and blood, please, I’ve had enough,
draw me a sheep, or stick people smiling wide, holding
hands under the flowery sun.
(From PRIVATE 47 – ISREAEL, p. 62)