If it was a place —
cognitive dissonance, it
would be here, Israel.
Where in one swift shift
I move from embarrassment
(I forgot about swimming
lessons) to fear of
war. Shame I forgot about
it; murder and them
(those who can’t forget
except in dreams which aren’t real)
and yelled at my son
for telling me he
was bored on the second day
after school ended.
If it was a place —
cognitive dissonance, it
would be here, Israel.
Where over coffee
I compose long to-do lists
grateful in a way
to be a mother
with room in my heart for lists.
For tomorrow’s plans.
If it was a place —
cognitive dissonance, it
would be here, Israel.
Where over bacon
(made from turkey) I slowly
savor the almost flavor
of America,
and imagine I lived there
again. Would the world
be less dissonant?
More in tune with my inner
rhythms? harmony?
If it was a place —
cognitive dissonance, it
would be now, this, we.
It would be — it is —
the surreal surrender in
waking, in spite of.
