London Tipping Point

It has come to this, but this is just the beginning

We know it. We live it. We hear it. Can you?

The clamour, dog whistle, scrape of departing train

The endgame, our ruination, but it’s civilization which crumbles

Every time, the sickness of the mind follows sickness of the body politic

You’re ill my friend, and we die too

We know it. We live it. We see it. Can you?

The slogans, excuses, hypocrisy, apathy, the cowardly clam shell closing

No dogs, no Jews, no Zionists. The white privileged untouchable

The BBC reports the hate it helped create. The irony

The weak and spineless express sadness, but no remorse. The absurdity

But Purim has always been a marker. What’s new?

The sun still shines, yet we’re no longer welcome to the game

And if we protest, we bleat. If we push back, we overplay our hand

How to play it? Lean in, lean out? Escape there?

Quick runs the mind. Fast beats the heart

We know what happens if we wait too long to fill those empty suitcases

To gather clothes, holy books, and photos of the forebears

Who taught us to be ready

For days like these