Poetry
Sarah
All my memories of Sarah are distinct and separate,
Each of a different child.
Life in a puzzle.
I barely remember myself;
And she cannot remember either of us.
Yet it was always her and always me.
And only fourteen years altogether.
All my memories of Sarah are distinct and separate.
Can’t piece it all together.
Puzzle of a life.
I cannot comprehend the scattered memories.
They span three continents — worlds apart.
We will travel again through those memories, Sarah and I.
I shall tell her all that I remember and she will remember.
She will puzzle over the puzzle and make it whole.
A whole person, distinct and separate.
Hanna Trigere, Kfar Giladi, June 30 1986
Fragments – A Tribute to Dan Pagis
A poet died today;
A katyusha fell not far away.
They dug a grave for the poet,
And filled the crater left by the rocket.
Earth smoothed over.
No poet.
No rocket.
Waked from sleep last night I heard it
Whistle and land with reverberating boom.
Today, I see dark, little gashes left by shrapnel.
Metal tore at metal, and metal won.
Children will point:
See, that’s where it fell.
I met him at a cocktail party. His brow was
Wide and shiny. And his smile bitter-sweet and quiet.
Today, I read his words, dark little gashes on paper.
Words, heart, brain, memory, all essential.
Children will point:
See, Dan Pagis wrote this.
“I tie my tied shoelaces / Button my buttoned coat”
Dan Pagis died today; a katyusha fell not far away.
Hanna Trigère, Kfar Giladi, June 30 1986
For Yariv’s Family
I never spoke to him; I never knew his name.
But from afar, I guessed whose brother he was
— and whose son.
It’s painful to think him gone.
It’s hard to understand.
The sacrifice of our sons, our brothers, our lovers.
The pain of the living is long-lasting;
the pain of death is quick…
– – and death so everlasting.
But the pain I feel and the tears I shed are real.
I cry for Yael, for Yeheskiel
for Gugu, Uri, and Hagar.
But most of all I cry for Yariv… whose chances are all gone.
Kfar Giladi, June 11 1982.
Jane Trigere Art 