Middle East Crisis

“A homeless woman, she began to journey home. Confused, she first hitchhiked south.”

April 5, 2015

I am 59 years old and it seems to me that the Middle East Crisis has been around since before I was born. Here’s hoping it will cease to be before I die. It is especially exasperating to me because my family on my father’s maternal side is of Lebanese ancestry. I cannot tell you the number of times I have conversed with one person or another about how similar the Arabic and Jewish people really are. It is like family fighting among each other. Sometimes this is the most vicious kind of fighting.

The following is a prose poem I wrote about myself. It is a true story even though it is fictionalized:

Dateline: arts

Poetry by Tanya Lester  continued

Middle East Crisis

Her personal became political in ancient times when she left the cedars of Lebanon, a seed in the loins of her great-grandmother. As the story of her body goes, she birthed herself on the east-facing shores of Lake Winnipeg. (This idea gnaws at her womb even now.) Being there, naked on the white sand, men came and broke her open, forced a woman out of a child. A homeless woman, she began to journey home. Confused, she first hitchhiked south. If a man, even a boy, crossed her path, she stopped, undressed and waited to be broken into again. (If you’re going to be broken into anyway, you may as well get it over with as quickly as possible.) When she reached the California courthouse where Angela Davis held the system up to resistance, she started to hold her own ground. She broke her first man on an L.A. freeway. From the beginning, she hated hating. Then, her compass beat so loudly she could see when listening. East. She would return east. After two tries, and a quick unfulfilling but hopeful journey west, she almost made it. She landed in Cyprus days after the U.S. bombed a Libyan vessel. Her union with a Greek man who told erotic legends, begat a child. Having returned west, she remembered the armed guards but she remembered the olive branches, too, so close to her home. The flat fields of wheat seemed cold and metallic. She wondered about returning east. Asked a Jew about working in a kibbutz, coming from her culture. Thinking at the time she meant North American. Of course, you know the ending: another unholy war broke out. World with an end. What is her political? Was it her great-grandfather, a Christian who journeyed west because he did not have the courage to marry the Muslim woman he loved?




To read the early posts in this blog, go to writingsmall.wordpress.com

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Tanya Lester’s book, Confessions of a Tea Leaf Reader, can be purchased from the author or by going  to  the author and title name at amazon.com to read the first few pages and buy it.

Tanya Lester’s other books are Friends I Never Knew,   Dreams & Tricksters and Women Rights/Writes. They are in some public library systems and in the Legislative Library of Manitoba.


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