This piece is part of our Witnessing series, which shares pieces from Israeli authors and authors in Israel, as well as the experiences of Jewish writers around the globe in the aftermath of October 7th.
It is critical to understand history not just through the books that will be written later, but also through the first-hand testimonies and real-time accounting of events as they occur. At Jewish Book Council, we understand the value of these written testimonials and of sharing these individual experiences. It’s more important now than ever to give space to these voices and narratives.
A Japanese poet once said,
Beneath the cherry blossoms
there’s no such thing as strangers
But I found you beneath a fig tree.
Leaves rustled in the breeze.
We shared within the shade.
Sweet taste of summer,
we weren’t strangers then.
But then came fall.
We prayed for rain—
Were plunged in flames—
Amid the ash—
Our tree was charred.
A Japanese poet once said,
Beneath the cherry blossoms
there’s no such thing as strangers
But I found you beneath a fig tree.
Branches burnt and barren.
No shade for us to share.
Bitterness of fall,
we aren’t strangers now.
And then came winter.
We prayed for strength—
Marched off to war—
At last some rain—
Our tree could finally drink.
A Japanese poet once said,
Beneath the cherry blossoms
there’s no such thing as strangers
But I found you beneath a fig tree.
When you see the leaves,
you’ll feel the breeze.
We’ll share this shade.
Sweet taste of summer,
we won’t be strangers then.
The views and opinions expressed above are those of the author, based on their observations and experiences.
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