In his poem “Rosh HaShanah,” the Israeli poet Aharon Shabtai offers the reader a micro-view of the life of a poet amidst a landscape of brutal, state-sanctioned atrocity. As he watches French news reportage, Shabtai’s life continues as comfortable and as ordinary as ever. He cooks pasta; he browns pine nuts; he eats dinner. He writes a poem. We read it.
“Rosh HaShanah” is one of the poems contained within Shabtai’s poetry collection J’Accuse, written in the first couple years of the Second Intifada. In the collection, Shabtai accuses the Israeli government of committing brutal atrocities against the Palestinian people. In an interview with Jeffrey Brown, Shabtai elaborates: "When I was young and when I was in love with the land, suddenly we had a land, full of possibility, the ability to make the land beautiful, to grow up, and also to cross the borders for peace. And now, suddenly, it’s another image. It’s an image of closing, of a wall, and the wall is also something that’s internalized in the people. It’s a wall of fear, of hate, of incomprehension.” In his poetry, Shabtai mourns for the Palestinian people as he also mourns for the possibilities for beauty, peace, and justice lost to the IDF’s callous actions. He also wonders how even he, a poet openly critical of the Israeli government, might have a wall built inside of him.
This collection resonated with me. It resonated with me in ways that I am finding hard to unpack. As an American Jew raised in a Zionist community, I have had such a hard time grappling first with the reality that the Israeli government can and has acted in unjust ways, and then with another reality that people whom I love and admire will never speak out about this. It also resonates with me because this notion of “internalized walls” is so familiar to me. I am currently finishing my dissertation (!!!), and actively revising a chapter on Richard Wright’s memoir Black Boy. There, too, he speaks about how Jim Crow and architectures of segregation have created “walls in [people’s] minds.” (For more on this, SEE MY DISS!) And then there is Trump’s wall. I worry so much about the damage that wall will do. But I am inspired by acts of resistance. Foolishly, perhaps, I have hope.
This is a collection I will keep returning to. The translator Peter Cole argues that in Shabtai’s poetry, “the personal is not the political; instead, the political becomes the personal.” Shabtai indeed writes so beautifully about how the political creeps into the everyday. As we continue to live in Trump’s America, as our future looks unclear, I am glad to know that I have this book to turn to for guidance.