Including poems by Samantha Bender, Talya Levisohn, Nava Cohen, Margalit Feinberg, Kate Schwartz, and Sophie Weinberger. These poems are published within a partnership between Day Eight and the Milton Gottesman Jewish Day School. Featured image illustrating the post is of eighth grade students at the school provided by the Milton Gottesman School, used by permission.
We Are Different But We Are Proud
by Samantha Bender
People ask questions why don’t I eat pig
Why can’t I drive today
Why am I so different
Why the one place that’s supposed to be the home of my people
Is not whistling with birds but with sirens and missiles
Why, no, how could they have forgotten
We have done this before
The hate the murder the dying
Thousands of years of being different
Of wanting more
Wanting more broken down barriers instead of glass bones, souls and lives.
But they will call us selfish they will call us names
They will say this is the end
When really this is the end of a chapter not a book
One of the countless chapters in this book we are writing
A story worth telling worth expediting
And they might call us names they might say we’re selfish
But we have done this before.
The hate the murder the dying.
So this is my answer
I do not eat pork because I am different
And I do not drive today because I remember
My Job
By Talya Levisohn
My mom
says its
My job
to carry on the tradition
the tradition of Jews
to marry a Jew
to celebrate
Shabbat
Purim
Hanukkah
Pesach
Rosh Hashana
she says it’s my tradition
my basket
to carry
and some day she hopes
I will add to the basket
and pass it on
to my child
to their child
and to all of Am Israel
she says it’s my job
And I like my job and
I like my basket and
I am proud
to be a Jew
A Yehudi
A Hebrew
An Israelite
I am proud
It is my heritage
My birthright
my dor l’dor
I am proud
To be here
standing tall
Fighting
Singing
Smiling
To pass on my basket
To continue
my people
My nation
I am proud
To still be here
To still have faith
To still care
Through the bombs
The wars
The fighting
And I am proud
Memories
By Nava Cohen
I listen to stories
Of those who came before
In my community
They span the world
Each their own
Specially unique stories
Who will remember all of them
Their jokes, laughter, personality
What makes them THEM
Some live their life out happily
No hardships, No pain, No death
But that’s not true for everyone
Some witness horrors
To them, to their family, their loved ones
And it’s hard to talk about it
But it’s our duty to remember
The good, the bad
All of it
I cradle the stories in my mind
Protecting them from being forgotten
A thousand dim lights across the world
Growing stronger as we tell their stories
To the next generation
Soaring isn’t for everyone
By Margalit Feinberg
I’ve always wanted to fly.
Through the cotton candy clouds,
Alongside the chirping birds,
Feeling the spring sun rays on my skin.
I’ve tried to soar.
Across the Atlantic,
Away from my troubles,
Towards shining gold.
But I’ve learned that soaring isn’t for me.
I’ve fallen from the sky one to many times.
So, I’ve decided that just because you can fly, doesn’t mean you can soar.
A Hebrew Dandelion
By Margalit Feinberg
I speak two languages.
English and Hebrew.
English is easier but I prefer Hebrew.
Speaking a 3000 year old language is entertaining.
It’s like blowing on a dandelion.
Watching the seeds fly through the air gives a feeling of satisfaction.
But you have to blow hard enough for the seeds to fly away.
Hebrew is blowing hard enough for the seeds to fly.
And once you’ve learned, it’s the satisfaction of the seeds floating in the air.
Friday Nights
by Kate Schwartz
silence
just candles flickering
grape juice spilling
the aroma of food in the oven
blessing the grape juice
washing hands
challah out of the oven
the mouth watering
food is out
delicious I say
as I take a bite
the noise begins
talking
the air conditioner
chairs squeaking
as I get up for seconds
dinner is done
couch time
book on my lap
pages flipping
as I find my place
Up to Us
By Sophie Weinberger
It’s up to us to build the future
It’s up to us to plant the roots
It’s up to us to blaze the trail
It’s up to us to guide the way
It’s up to us to remember the past
It’s up to us to look to the future
And…It’s up to us to have the realization that makes it click together.
How did I
By Sophie Weinberger
How did I get here?
I ask myself,
I am not the one who brought me here,
I look to my ancestors,
Who are closer than it seems,
Only a few generations back,
Stories, Heirlooms, the like,
Is what I get.
But is that far back?
No.
Because I have the blood of my ancestors,
within me.
How did I II
By Sophie Weinberger
How did I bring myself to asking these questions?
Because that’s who I am,
I am the type who is not ashamed to put thought to deep thoughts,
The type who embraces it,
I am far from alone in being this type,
Certain people come to mind,
Who have this in commonality,
With myself,
But something I have in common with my community
Is that I sing,
Part of me thinks, that is the trigger,
For my deep thinking.
Calling
By Sophie Weinberger
When far from home,
You always hear the calling,
When far from community,
You always feel the calling,
Some times more than others,
Some places more than others,
Especially, some people more than others
When I heard that calling,
I heard the voices
I felt the flames
That I knew I was missing
“There’s no place like home” as they say
And yes, I agree,
But there are times,
When away from community
When one is reminded,
Just how grateful they are.
Meaning
By Sophie Weinberger
As you search for meaning,
In one thing or another,
It takes,
Looking where,
You’re,
Not asked,
To find something meaningful,
Meaning, when you find it,
Is the best kind,
Because you do it your way.
Doing
By Sophie Weinberger
When I’m there,
I’m doing,
In disguise,
But I am there,
Doing it,
My way,
But then,
I try taking it in,
Breathing the air,
Finally realizing,
What I’m contributing to.
Fire
By Sophie Weinberger
There’s the kind that comes,
To mind,
But,
Think,
Anything,
Could be a spark,
A flame,
A candle,
However you say it,
Fire.
Now you start it.
