Yehud

Sara Simone Barenfeld

You told me once the only Arabic you knew came from when you were in the
            army,
A stout darker-skinned elderly woman stood in front of a room of 18-year-olds and said memorize these words:
Wakef Wakef!

But the Yeminite ghetto of Tel-Aviv
could not have prepared you for the smell of burning handmade toys
They did not tell you that the Arabic of your grandfather
would not help you on the sandy streets of Rafah, nor in the foothills beyond
            Metula

And for months you slept with your rifle at your bedside,
there is no honor in this, you say
And all those times you could not load your rifle in the summer of 2023 were
            suddenly lost like the Arabic words you tried to remember

As you pictured kicking down doors in Khan Yunis

As you remained awake for almost 48 hours

Everyone in Palestine recognized you, like they knew you

Except no one opened their doors or served tea,
and a ground invasion took your name

And there weren’t even ghosts for you to say Wakef walla ana batuchakto
because every moving body is a threat.
So when you finally crossed the border, you tried to act surprised
when all you found were

children’s body parts and rubble.

‡‡

SARA SIMONE BARENFELD is a doctoral candidate in the English department at Stony Brook University where they are also a recipient of the Dr. W. Burghardt Turner Fellowship. They have published poetry and various writings in The Elevation Review, Sonder Midwest, and Please See Me, among others. They currently reside in New Jersey.