HANUKKAH

by Anita S. Pulier

Sure, we know the story.

Desecration of a temple,

hopelessness, sorrow.

Short on sanctified oil

the fire and light on hand

turn out to be good enough,

darkness is defeated.

And isn’t that the point?

Things are never perfect,

never, and “good enough”

is the miracle.

As each of our children

comes into their own,

defying myth and dogma,

they create for us, the

generation of overseers,

a unique spectrum in which

to pause, inhale the holiday,

embrace imperfection

redefine terms, witness

history in the making.

Anita's latest book is Leaving Brooklyn (Kelsay Books). Anita’s poems have appeared in many journals and anthologies. She has been a featured poet on The Writer's Almanac and Cultural Daily. 

MAMDANI

by Indran Amirthanayagam

Boffed, bumped, beaten, 
bled and bleeding I have 
lurched everywhere 

seeking to straighten up, 
to get on with the business 
of making and conserving 

while seeing fellow 
migrants rounded up, 
shackled, jailed, flown 

to foreign jails, 
to foreign countries, 
on this once blue 

and green earth. But 
was it always greener? 
Surely princes 

of darkness weaved 
their scythes through 
the pitch-black flesh 

of history to be 
countered then 
by a bearded man

who threw 
moneylenders
out of 

his father’s temple
manifest now 
in a young 

mayoral candidate 
of hope from 
the city of NewYork.

Indran Amirthanayagam has just published his translation of Kenia Cano’s Animal For The Eyes (Dialogos Books, 2025). Other recent publications include Seer (Hanging Loose Press) and The Runner's Almanac (Spuyten Duyvil). He is the translator of Origami: Selected Poems of Manuel Ulacia (Dialogos Books). Mad Hat Press published his love song to Haiti: Powèt Nan Pò A (Poet of the Port). Ten Thousand Steps Against the Tyrant (BroadstoneBooks) is a collection of Indran's poems. He edits The Beltway Poetry Quarterly and helps curate Ablucionistas. He hosts the Poetry Channel on YouTube and publishes poetry books with Sara Cahill Marron at Beltway Editions.

JERUSALEM LAMENTS

by Greg Friedman

William Blake, The Emanation of The Giant Albion, Object 41 detail from “Jerusalem” 1804 to 1820

From the south I hear their cries: 

David, 

Wala’a, 

Yochered, 

Aya, 

       Oded, 

      Muhammad. 

They call from the tunnels, 

the dead unburied 

from beneath the ruined hospital 

    where mothers search  

    in the dust for the lost. 

From the north I witness the terror, 

from the south I suffer the terror, 

with my sons I bear the terror, 

with my daughters I carry the terror, 

the whistle of the anonymous messengers, 

raining their sentence of vengeance: 

alarm across the city, 

dread beyond the border, 

anger unchecked by reason, 

retribution fueling the advance, 

memories etched in blood staining 

my land gifted, 

inheritance claimed, 

my land usurped, 

inheritance ignored— 

my land where only the stones now cry 

to me its mother.  

I hear them from captivity,  

I hear them from subjugation, 

I hear them from internment, 

I hear them  

from Nasser Hospital, 

from Kibbutz Nir Oz, 

from Deir al-Balah, 

from Kibbutz Kfar Aza, 

from the shrines sacred to my children, 

from mountain, mosque, temple, basilica, 

from the holy rock, 

from Herod’s enduring walls, 

from the ancient sepulcher, 

from the sudden sepulchers of rubble, 

from the entombing walls of Gaza City. 

 

I hear them all 

from mountain, mosque, temple, basilica, 

ancient in my mourning, 

young in my anguish, 

vigilant for their outcry, 

I wait for the silence, 

I despair for the peace, 

I remember and watch and listen. 

Greg Friedman is a Franciscan Friar who travels frequently to the Middle East, leading pilgrims. He has been a magazine editor, radio host and pastor.

AND IT SHALL COME TO PASS

a pantoum

by Kai Thigpen

i am not a weapon to be used

in the destruction of a people

 

for i was a stranger in the land

of egypt

 

even if my people sharpen themselves to steel points

or round themselves into bullets

 

thou shalt not murder

the destruction of a people

a choking silence

muffles rounds of bullets

 

thou shalt not use the name of 

 

genocide

 

in vain

 

a choking silence 

a temple destroyed again and again over so many centuries, so many times it’s all we can point to with our free hands while our other hands are soaked in blood from genocide

 

in the beginning

 

some of us have killed

some of us have been told

“you will not be safe if we do not kill”

 

 

a temple destroyed again and again over so many centuries, so many times it’s all we can point to with our free hands while our other hands are soaked in blood:

my people take the shards of the temple, of every country

we have been told to leave, of every house

in which we have needed to hide

and sharpen themselves to steel points

 

 

we have killed

 

therefore set these words 

upon your hearts and souls: i am not a weapon to be used

in the destruction of a people.

Kai Thigpen is a white, non-binary, Jewish poet and therapist serving primarily LGBT+ communities. They live on occupied Lenni Lenape land, in Philadelphia, with their partner and two fluffy cats. Kai's poetry chapbook, habitat, is available from Illuminated Press.

ON THE ALTAR

by Jacqueline Jules 

                                                                             

Evidence for the largest single incident of mass child sacrifice in the Americas— and likely in world history—has been discovered on Peru's northern coast, archaeologists tell National Geographic. More than 140 children and 200 young llamas appear to have been ritually sacrificed in an event that took place some 550 years ago on a wind-swept bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, in the shadow of what was then the sprawling capital of the Chimú Empire. —Kristin Romey, National Geographic, April 26, 2018. Photograph by Gabriel Prieto.

                                                                 

The remains of children and llamas in Peru
reminds me of Abraham, how he didn’t argue
for Isaac the way he did for Sodom and Gomorrah,
how he acquiesced, traveling three days as commanded,
building an altar, binding his son.  Imagine
Isaac’s terrified eyes until an angel appears
with new instructions.

Which brings me back to the bodies in Peru,
breastbones bent to extract 140 hearts
offered to appease an angry god, demanding
what’s most precious as ultimate bribe.

Like a folktale reinvented around the globe,
sacrifice is not confined to geographic region.
From ancient times, somehow humans have believed
we have to kill to demonstrate devotion.

When the angel told Abraham to offer a ram instead,
it was more than a revelation, it was a weaning.
Spiritually, we were babies, still sucking
on our first source of sustenance.

Think of how we despaired later on,
when the Temple was destroyed and
we were told we couldn’t burn animals
anymore. What can we put on the altar now?
We cried. How do we please now?

The answer still seems to baffle us.

Jacqueline Jules is the author of the poetry chapbooks Field Trip to the Museum, Stronger Than Cleopatra, and Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press. Her work has appeared in over 100 publications including TheNewVerse.News, The Rising Phoenix Review, What Rough Beast, Public Pool, and Gargoyle.

HANUKKAH DEMONSTRATION AGAINST HATE

by Judith Lechner

More than 75 people from the new Hudson Valley chapter of the group Jewish Voice for Peace gathered at Wall and North streets in Uptown Kingston late Wednesday afternoon to demonstrate their solidarity with Muslims and other minority groups. —Kingston (NY) Daily Freeman, December 21, 2016

Candles challenge city lampposts, neon signs, passing headlights.

            A miraculous oil lit the lamps in the Temple.

Crowd’s voices gather strength, shout “Love, not hate, makes America great.”

            Hanukkah candle flames remind us of ancient battle against oppressors.

December night chills hands holding placards of painted candles that tell their story.

            Holy Temple in Jerusalem 170 B.C.

            Greek-Syrian despot Antioch  forbids Jewish worship.

            Sends soldiers to massacre resistors in Land of Israel.

            Invaders erect altar to Zeus defiling the Temple.

            Long struggle led by Judah Maccabee wins back the holy site.

            Only enough oil to purify the Temple for one day.

            A miracle—oil burns for eight days.

Hanukkah is the memory of the rededication of the Temple.

            Purification celebrated by lighting eight candles one a day.

We dedicate ourselves to fighting hate in the temple within.

            Shine light on the persecution of Muslims and Blacks. 

We form a human menorah to display our unity in diversity.

            Lights spell out our message of brotherhood and justice.

Each candle helps illuminate inner darkness, clear hatred from clouded eyes.

             The message of Hanukkah --“a miracle can happen here.”

Judith Lechner—poet, short story and essay writer—has also written 24 nonfiction books for school libraries. Her poetry book The Moon Sings Back appeared in 2011. She is a member of the Goat Hill Poets, a performance group and has won the Green Heron Poetry Prize and Tattoo Haiku contest.

REAWAKENED

by Richard Schnap




I hear the sound
Of drums approaching
Beating a rhythm
From the distant past

Down a ghostly road
That’s been reopened
To slither beneath
A bloodstained dawn

And in the wind
Come a thousand voices
Cheering the arrival
Of a man I’ve met before

Speaking a language
Of fashionable hatred
Designed to enshrine him
In the temple he’s rebuilt


Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally, and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.