Felled from my ideals, my lights turned as leaves to a sun day sound of hate, blood of injustice aggrandized dripping from his Cheshire Visage like spring morning dew. My heart seizes with the smell of burning flesh as this evangelist of hate, reincarnated spirit of clicking heels and snapping salutes who proselytizes lies from speakers on trucks is raised as
As this lying-as-he-breathes blood-sucking insect’s tom-toms bombastically beat a call to death by Hate, the Andrew-Jackson message is clear that I ethnically justify an Arab Trail of Tears; that I’m a man-as deity with a proclivity for xenophobia as his flock characterized by an untreated congenital deficiency of humanity, animated by code-words.
I’m on his white-hat Texas Ranger side of Manifest Destiny, glad friend of pharaoh threatening raining death from chariots, ends justifying means. Compassion is weakness, self-hating Radical-Islamofascist sympathizers who humanize targets. My religion now his – nothing to do with Justice beyond self-serving justifications of oppression marketed as liberty, dominion veiled in thin democracy, covetousness masquerading as righteousness, mercilessness with a cheap costume to parade as a caricature of Justice.
My tragic ovation of a feckless buffoon who accuses a Jew with whom he disagrees as collaborating with Shoah makes the Treif Dinner less a nightmare; that table of matzos wrapped in prosciutto now overturned in the annals of horror. My Brownshirt didn’t invent dissing Reform from his Macy’s parade-sized empty head; it came from me.
I’m your man-as deity, will dictate what to know think feel and say. I’ll humiliate noisy Human Rights bleeding-heart Jews into silent submission by invalidating code-word epithets: Hellenist. McCarthy’s communists. Not-religious. Self-hating. Anti-Semitic. Jews, the bulwark of Justice in the world through history, are to be stifled and invalidated. Listen here; if you can Never Forgetaboutit, at least shut up about it.
Conflicted, disappointed that my love of Israel is short of becoming hate; I’m dying in the Kübler-Ross paradigm, stages not sequential, but mixed, coming and going, combinative: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. All raging, to and fro, waxing and waning as my nauseating association with xenophobes reopened my own ancient wounds, still fresh and tender, and inflamed in shame.
Beyond me is forgetting that I am from slave knowing gut-wrenching terror that penetrates every fiber of my being and steals the air out of my silent attic of fear, of this type of man then in power. [I’m quiet, silent. … Won’t make a sound. Still. …Slow quiet breaths, as the thundering of my heart and blood thrumming in my ears drowns out steps coming near. Still. Quiet. …. They might hear. Quiet! ……….. ] I’ll Never Forget that sound of breaking glass, the smell of death in a marketed as cleansing shower, of hate.
I’ve experienced racism. I’ve been humiliated because of who I am. I’ve been in a place less than choice, because of who I am. Confined. Restricted in Association. Counted and discounted by policy based on who I am. Labeled. This is my experience. Marrying my Civil Rights cause to haters that live on demonization as oxygen and light to justify denies my history of being the object of injustice, denies my history of standing for Justice, and denies who I am. Forgets.
After another notable election of my history, the first Authoritarian steps for the good of the nation were to consolidate power, attenuate democracy, stifle dissent, take control of the flow of information, and turn the idea of Justice on its head to gut who I am, fracture me. Autocratic. Despotic. Tyrannical. Repressive. Oppressive. I can Never Forget those experiences with Authoritarianism that compelled acquiescence, to shut up and take orders, the same that allowed saying; I heard the Hate, but didn’t know what was happening, and more importantly, I knew not to ask.
Zionism is an ache of care and affection through my soul that pulls my heart out of my chest and takes my breath away; that calls as I remember. Here, I’ve undermined the moral integrity of Zionism more definitively than South African Apartheid justified by compunction of the Reagan-Thatcher hand that fed me. I awaken from my idyllic dream of refusing to call Hate friend to a reality that it’s Hate that feeds me, whose deity of power over life and death on earth will see me through. In whom I must trust. Racists carry my standard now as I lie down with demons.
An officer of the court cannot suborn perjury. How much more so for a priest from a holy people? My professional liar’s credibility cannot be rehabilitated, sacrificing my own by association. My Queen of Justice impatiently sacrificed for a sandcastle of removed by returned by pharaoh’s power.
If there are three crowns: of the law, the priesthood, and the kingship and the crown of a good name is greater than them all, I lost. Badly. He asks nothing but my vote for Hate, my Cause lost in the exchange. Stained by South African Apartheid coloring and distorting my truth, Zionism allied to Islamophobia corroborates drip-drab reports of ethnic persecution of Arabs; proves me Idolatrous.
I’ve long wondered if I’d eat pork to survive. It’s not as Donner-pass complicated as I thought. I can’t stomach an inveterate misanthropic corporatist with a proclivity for xenophobia praying to himself to be a man-as deity. I don’t care that his Hate light-saber is elsewhere directed. Doomed by an anaphylactic allergy, I’ll die anyway. I’m not going to be ‘saved’ and start eating goes-better-with-everything bacon. Nor will I gladly swallow this poison of pork-rind wafers of acceptance by say-do-whatever automatons with Hate hot sauce to wash down unrighteous justifications.
As pied pipers of Hate-by-lies draw their Birds of a Feather, I’m magnetically repelled. Making my Civil Rights Cause Cain’s freedom to be deity over life and death in this world makes it their rights to be denied, my hating Hate presciently dumbed-down to allying with lovers of Hate. I’ve passed down-for-whatever, now I’m down with Hate.
My Jewish co-worker has a pork lunch daily. Careful not to offend, knowing that the world suffers with every bite, I gently and good-naturedly encouraged him to stop. Refusing to judge; I had faith that he’d come around, eventually. Not caring enough to give up egregious treif, but loving Israel enough to embrace that hater; I can’t look in his eyes now.
Say it isn’t so that only haters can tolerate that sound.