I am a militant man, because I have been conditioned to be a militant man.
I never asked to have the urge to wield a weapon, to want to delve into battle, to gallop terribly against my fellow man.
I was born immaculate, so innocent, still, I was turned fierce and unyielding.
I am a Jew and I have existed since the dawn of my inception in Ur Kasdim.
I am the Christ-killer, the evil money lender, the red-hatted merchant scurrying about. I am the fortunate Dhimmi man, waiting patiently for my Pogrom to occur. My body was burned six million times,
but at least they killed me first.
In ‘48 I retrieved my land, that sliver along the sea. In addition they gave me a desert and then I had my country.
Right away they fought against me joyously, so eagerly leaving their homes.
Through tales of libel were justified all their bloodthirsty drones.
But, they understood not, that:
I am the Christ-killer, the evil money lender, the red-hatted merchant scurrying about. I am the fortunate Dhimmi man, waiting patiently for my Pogrom to occur. My body was burned six million times,
but at least they killed me first.
And so I raised my bloodied fist, reveling triumphantly in their shameful misery. And in my heart I felt, no joy.
Again and again and again and again they soon struggled to drive me into the sea. Kindly they would arouse my wrath, compelling me to be. Always persistently reminding me
I am the Christ-killer, the evil money lender, the red-hatted merchant scurrying about. I am the fortunate Dhimmi man, waiting patiently for my Pogrom to occur. My body was burned six million times,
but at least they killed me first.
You have perverted me, compelling me to be the man I am. I asked not to be this way, wished not to feel the way I do. I was in fact conditioned to be this way by you. The time is here and the truth is that, I will not rise above at all. I will hold my place, maintain my position, yearning to appall.
I am the Christ-killer, the evil money lender, the red-hatted merchant scurrying about. I am the fortunate Dhimmi man, waiting patiently for my Pogrom to occur. My body was burned six million times,
but at least they killed me first.
This a great poem, it captures he reality that we live in. No matter what we do or how much we try to change the way the world views us. In the end none of it matters, it will never make a difference. The world already has its mind set on how it views israel and Jews. We are to small to make a difference and it seems as if the more we try the worse it becomes for us.
And maybe that is exactly our problem? The more we try change the worlds perception of us the worse it becomes. But on the contrary when we take matters into our own hands and do what we believe is in our best interest without fearing what everyone else will think of us. At that moment we will finally be accepted as. who we are and not whet people believe us to be.
L