Until We Are All Free, We Are

Jews Are The Intensive Form Of Any Nationality Whose Language And Customs They Adopt.

There Is No Comfort Looking Forth Nor Back, The Present Gives The Lie To All Her Past.

Naught Is Too Small And Soft To Turn And Sting.

The Soul, At Peace, Reflects The Peace Without, Forgetting Grief As Sunset Skies Forget The Morning's Transient Shower.

Poetry Must Be Simple, Sensuous, Or Impassioned.