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fiction by Zeeva Bukai


You think once you’ve crossed the desert you will find freedom; your belly will be full; your body will forget hunger and fear. After many months you reach the spot where the airplane will take you to the land and you think it will be like the words spoken by the kahenat on the sabbath, full of milk and honey. You will touch trees and honey will drip into your cup. You will sit by the river and milk will gush toward the banks and you think your body will find its home and that you can finally rest. You want so much to rest, but there are others waiting to come here and you do not forget them, not once in your prayers, not even when you sit with your child on the terrace and smell the sea. You smile, but you do not forget.

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