TWO POEMS

*
 
How I loved to cross the Arava Desert
in our little red car,
rubbing a hunk of bread between my fingers.
My father, my mother and I in a small cage, happy.
 
*
 
Many years ago, close to the end of the war,
a house nearby collapsed.
And another one
and then the war was over.
Twenty-two years of war
are mixed together in excellent disorder in my head.
The first decade was hard to bear
and the last days unbearable.
 

TWO POEMS