If you can hear the sound of my voice, have a drink
And a snack.

Would that I could give shalekhmones to everyone I know. Until that day, this Purim poem, included in every bag of raisins and hamentaschen, will have to do. (Yiddish and Hebrew versions here.)

Pain brings redemption
Unless it doesn’t.
Reason to celebrate
Isn’t Their defeat.
My survival’s not the why of it.

Proper partying has a drive
Unbound to past suffering,
Reactive but not visceral.
I say we get drunk now –
Maybe just a little bit.

Prepare a list of our demands.
Upthrusting sugar-sticky fists,
Rage against the Maker.
Importune the Deity for
Moral strength, lawful rigor, smooth-burning whiskey, tasty cookies.

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