by Nessa Rapoport
Undo it, take it back, make every day the previous one
until I am returned to the day before the one that made
you gone. Or set me on an airplane traveling west,
crossing the date line again and again, losing this day,
then that, until the day of loss still lies ahead, and you
are here instead of sorrow.
Nessa Rapoport is author of a novel, Preparing for Sabbath, and of A Woman’s Book of Grieving, from which this prose poem is drawn.
Lilith editors talk to Afghan women about their lives under the Taliban yoke, and how their rights eroded step by step. What resonates for us—as Jews, and as women?
by Meredith Tax
A longtime lobbyist for women’s rights, remembering the loss freedoms during the First Cold War, implores us not to lose our voices in the current fray.
by Sarah Blustain
When women anywhere are forced under cover, we all quake. Here’s one take on veiling and women’s shame.
by Alice Sparberg Alexiou
A female American Jew was in the mountains of Greece on 9/11. Here’s what she heard, what she said, and what she wishes she’d been able to tell her hosts.
by Nessa Rapoport