Heaven – have mercy on me.
For there is no God in you, no guiding decree.
They chose to place me, cold and stark,
In the prison service's bleeding dark.
To my right, in the cellar, a terrorist confined;
To my left – poison, ropes, and blades aligned.
No air, no sky, no window, no spark.
"The hangman!" they cry. "Rise and slaughter!"
Called Limor Har-Melech, the law's scheming plotter
Declaring the law in curse and in jest,
Then shouting, "Israel lives!" with the rest.
Joined by his highness, Itamar Ben Gvir, king of my kin,
Who gathered my brothers to answer his call,
All uncorking the bottle "L'Chaim!" – all the nation, brothers and kings –
But now it is I facing filthy things.
And if there is justice – let it appear,
Let it shine forth now, immediate and clear!
But if only after the man is slain
It is found he was guiltless, free of stain –
Then let the throne of justice be cast away,
Erased forever, without delay!
For Jewish terrorists will not decay;
They flourish, rise and seize their day,
As ministers, operatives – steeped in blood,
They thrive and prosper in the flood,
And by that blood they cleanse their name,
And wash themselves of guilt and shame.
And cursed be he who cries, "Revenge!"
Such vengeance knows no rightful edge –
Blood-revenge without a borderline
Leaves no repair, no just design.
For not just the hanged man faces the abyss –
All Israel shares in a crime like this.
Blood will chase them, dark and deep,
To shadowed depths where no light seeps –
They'll be cast out, no salvation,
From all the state's corrupted foundations.
The above article is Haaretz's lead editorial, as published in the Hebrew and English newspapers in Israel.
