“Tell them all that we love them to the moon and back”— the last message of the tatzpitaniyot (female lookouts) at the Nahal Oz outpost on October 7, 2023. The lookouts reportedly foresaw the events but their warnings were ignored. All but two were either murdered or taken hostage. A poem.



And thanks, thank you all,

every stone, grain of sand

every car, crack, and bird

every sign,

on this borderzone,

which I know like the palm of my hand


like I know of a moon that is love

trembling nights, longing breeze

like I know every note of this land

every fracture of heart

every mend


Because we are the grey, the murky, the stained

for two years, we are these

peering hours —

And I’m sorry to call you so late,

Sir, but –


(you said, you’re the eyes,

sing the strange of the sea.

now a moon full of grief

asks grey questions of me)


For the dawn must have also stood mute

in the face of a colonel’s scold

and now it’s too late for this shivering moon, Sir,

Tell them all –

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Related Articles

Nissim / A Short Story

Olga Lempert

Small and raggedy, his scowl still terrified me. This was when he knocked on my door and announced he had come to stay with me. He looked like he was having a tougher time than most. Shallow unshaven cheeks, angry burning eyes set deep into black circles, shaggy brows. He said his name was Nissim. I gave him some towels and sheets and left him to get on with it.

The Risk of Unanticipated Readers

Akin Ajayi

A new novel satirizing the travails of an Israeli in West Africa may make sense to local readers but risks missing the point in translation.

For Whom Do I Toil?

Tomer Gardi

On Globalization and Contemporary Hebrew World Literature.

The First Women

Dana Kessler

A new book about the women of the Bible reveals an impressive variety of heroines - both familiar and unknown - and their relevance for our times.