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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “the Breaking” Down in the Dirt (v134) (the January/February 2016 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book A Stormy Beginning the Down in the Dirt Jan. - June 2016 collection book		get the 318 page Jan. - June 2016 Down in the Dirt issue anthology 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

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No country for a Jew

Debasis Mukhopadhyay

    Yesterday, I was the then Jew. I was there alone with all of us when fell open the dictum a Jew is always a Jew. Thereafter, it suited them to knead my blood. Bones rattled crawling back to hope. Cries caught fire sans flame in the throat. Trains dashed through my flesh into those camps. I died inside the walls with all doors shut but in a room for spammed memories to make a journey. No country for a Jew. A Jew will always be a Jew.
    Today, swaddled in razor wire, you too look as doomed as I was then-there. Like a perfect Jew, you are all alone with all of you in the deep of the slime. Swelled bodies keep swelling with night. You had to flee the war as far as you can carrying your hope and leaving behind the shadow of beheaded corpses you’d thought home. They made you give up. And no country for a Jew.
    Yesterday, I was a Jew like you. I had just nightmares to look on in the sky wanting my skin. No tomorrows called birds in the cold skull. No ports to land my imagination. I had to just carry my blood across the seas. A Jew will always be a Jew. I was as ugly as you are looking now. No country for a Jew.
    Today, you are sailing on yesterday’s perilous waters. Remember, no ports to arrive for a perfect Jew. That’s what St Louis is meant for. Life has many masks but not death. Voyage of the dammed is calling my heart by name. I can hear you crying out, “Here I am!” You will witness the silence of the world with your own flesh like I did. No country for a Jew.
    In the recesses of my mirror, I can see you locked in and flickering. I close my eyes. Light that brings back so many memories and revelations blinds me and so does wisdom. I know I’ve gotten to the point where I won’t enjoy to see us breathing together in the same room. You can hide in the history book of mankind. Just say “this is my death” and the world will agree to write it down in those pages of History. A safe place to unfold and remember your bones. Or if you ever survive, like me, you can be a Jew.

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