They called the girls emet, for truth They called the boys chesed, for kindness And we are in the middle, halfway Between woods and lights, boys and girls And they have told us That boys needed kindness to temper anger And girls needed truth to temper kind lies And whether they were right or wrong It tempered something, or not, but both are good So what of us, invisible, halfway? Are we riut, for sight? Are we yatzivut, for stability? Are we am, for a nation, for people? Are we koach, for strength? Or are we something more? Untempered, untamed, untrammeled? I do not know yet what we are I do not know where we will be But we will not be voiceless, Not again, now we have spoken And were I to choose a name for us I would call us kol Because kol means all, for us between, transitioning, changing or decided And kol is a voice That we awake like a shofar And send ringing over the places in between And claim our space alongside boys and girls.
--Some bad poetry I wrote for TDOV (this is about my camp, the language is Hebrew, please don't ask personal stuff about me or other people based on this, it isn't really my place to tell)
