Memorable Words from Murder Victims' Families

After the recent murders of three Israeli teens, allegedly by Hamas terrorists, followed by the revenge murder of an Arab teen, allegedly by right-wing radical Israelis, I read articles that quoted two family members from each side of the conflict. I was struck by their commonalities, which cried out for juxtaposition, to make a point.

The Israeli uncle of Naftali Fraenkel, and the Arab father of Muhammad Abu Khdeir BOTH shared similarly admirable, passionately pacifist words, despite the unimaginable tragedies they are both enduring since the murders of their boys:

Naftali Fraenkel’s uncle stated in response to Muhammad's killing, “Murder is murder. Whatever the nationality or age are, there is no justification, no forgiveness or penance for any murder.”

Muhammad Abu Khdeir's father stated, “I am against kidnapping and killing. Whether Jew or Arab, who can accept the kidnapping and killing of his son or daughter? I call on both sides to stop the bloodshed.”

If these two men, in the midst of such suffering, can maintain their ethics and not seek revenge, but peace, then what right do the ignorant haters on both sides of this ongoing conflict have to ignite further violence?! PEACE REQUIRES PLACING THE VALUE OF LIFE ABOVE ALL.

Shalom-Salaam-Peace!

Prompted by Photos of Abandoned Things...

On Facebook, I discovered a page called "Abandoned," featuring mysterious and/or thought-provoking photographs of abandoned things and places: a cornucopia of writing prompts for me! I just wrote this poem about this photo, and want to share it with you now:

Retired Phone Booths
by S. L. Lipson

The out-crowd rusts together,
around the corner from smirking cell phone towers,
who've made the booths superfluous,
unnecessary for anyone
but the nostalgic,
or the technophobic,
or the Superman wannabes.
Metal huts replaced by
metal rectangles the size of candy bars,
with powers that the booths
never contained.
Like the callers who used to feed them quarters,
the booths, too, have been pushed aside
to make room for Today.

Manners Make Us Memorable

          Manners make us memorable, either as courteous, compassionate folks, or as people who practice acceptable social customs out of obligation and respect for traditions, or even as hypocrites who use politeness to disguise disdain. Here, in poetry, are some thoughts about manners:

Definitely!

by Susan L. Lipson

They agreed that it was fabulous to reconnect after so long,

that they needed to get together--DEFINITELY!

And that old sentiments renewed should be called "resentiment."

They laughed together, then exchanged phone numbers, emails, smiles, and hugs.

She texted her long-lost friend the next day, to say how thrilled she felt to be back in touch.

The text evoked a "ditto" and a smiley face in reply. 

And that reply evoked an invitation to get together,

which remained unanswered for two days, 

before being re-sent, along with the words, "You probably didn't get my text, so…".

A day later she re-sent the text again, and then re-sent a new one,

and finally, "resentiment" became RESENTMENT.

And "definitely" became a lie.

You’re Welcome 

by Susan L. Lipson

You’re welcome—to take your place

below her,

once you’ve finished gushing,

“Thank you so much for your help--thank you!”

and she replies nonchalantly,

“You’re welcome,”

but never, “Thank YOU—

Thanks for asking me.”

No, that would mean

you’re welcome

to bother her again,

and clearly you’re not.

To thank someone for effusive thanks

creates balance,

equates giving and receiving,

and negates power of one over another.

“You’re welcome,” blithely uttered,

implies a privilege granted,

a favor tallied,

and only rarely a follow-up offer

to “feel free to ask again, anytime.”

Sympathy Cards 

She called to ask whether we received her sympathy card,

and whether we knew that she had made a donation in memory

of our dearly departed.

She didn’t ask how we are coping with the loss.

She didn’t even mention my mom-in-law's name,

or any memory of times spent with her.

She was just wondering—“no pressure, of course!”—

since she’d never received a thank-you card.

“But that really doesn’t matter, of course,” she assured me,

“since I’m sure you’ve been so busy since….”

And then she assured me yet again: “You know, dear, that you have

my sincere sympathy, in any case—

card or no card.”

Whose card did she mean?

And why must I thank her for mere sympathy,

which is like a carefully wrapped package of nothing,

without the true gift of Empathy rattling within.

Sympathy is what you SHOW to others; Empathy is what you FEEL for them.

Sympathy is external; Empathy is internal.

Sympathy is a polite action; Empathy is a compassionate one.

Sympathy is expected in polite society; but Empathy is a welcome, cherished surprise.

Sympathy can be expressed by greeting cards; Empathy is only expressed in sincere words and/or hugs.

Sympathy is announced; empathy is understood.

Sympathy shows caring; Empathy creates sharing.

Sympathy is to shine another’s beaten-up shoes; Empathy is to wear those shoes.

Loss is cluttered by the sympathetic shoe-shiners,

But simplified by those who share our burdens,

Leaving us a smaller fraction of grief to bear alone.