
New books of poetry give voice to grief over October 7
ROBERT NAGLER MILLER
Hanna Yerushalmi never thought of writing a book of poetry, let alone two. And she’d be the first to say that she would gladly erase every one of her poems if it meant that all the hostages taken by Hamas during the October 7 attacks would be returned safely–and alive–to their families.
But given the precarious state of the hostages still in captivity, and the knowledge that many of them have already been killed by terrorists, Yerushalmi–an ordained Reform rabbi, licensed mental health counselor, and certified sex therapist–will continue to write and publish poems that speak to her grief over the anguish experienced by the victims and their loved ones.
Yerushalmi released her first book, Strip of Land: A Collection of Poems about Israel , this past spring, and her follow-up, Oc7ober Shiva: A Collection of Poems about Israel , came out in September. Both are self-published and available for purchase on Amazon.
“Why did these poems bubble out of me?” Yerushalmi mused aloud during a recent interview. “I did not know how to process my feelings [over the atrocities]….It felt a great relief” to be able to express her shock, horror, and despair through the gift of language.
“I was not a big social media person,” she said, but she began posting the poems on Facebook, where others found comfort in her words.
“The reaction was astounding,” Yerushalmi continued. People said, ‘You should write a book.'”
Yerushalmi was not eager to take on what she believed a time-consuming task. As a clinician with a part-time practice, rabbi, spouse of a rabbi–her husband, Ari Goldstein, is spiritual leader of Temple Beth Shalom near Annapolis, Maryland–and parent to four young adults, she had plenty on her plate. But she soon discovered, she said, that the investment of time to produce a book through Amazon was not as monumental as she had imagined.
Since the publication of Strip of Land , she said, Facebook users across the continents have contacted her to let her know how meaningful and healing her poetry has been to them during this tumultuous period. They have responded to poems like “Reluctant Light–Nir Oz,” in which Yerushalmi writes of the devastation at Kibbutz Nir Oz, which Hamas attacked on October 7 and where one-quarter of its residents were killed, maimed, or abducted by the terrorists. The poem begins:
The birds chirp a high pitched
mourning song in rounds,
and the cat winds around my leg,
so eager for any kind of touch.
The lemon tree is full of fruit,
next to it, the lonely trampoline
is reduced to a burnt metal frame.
It concludes, as it began, with the image of the cat:
There is soot on the ground
and on the walls of the houses,
and the cat lies on the gravel,
her white fur, gray with ash.
In a footnote at the bottom of the page, Yerushalmi observes that the poem was written 141 days after the attack. Each poem, in fact, includes explanatory footnotes in which the poet counts how many days have elapsed since October 7.
Yerushalmi’s connection to Israel courses through her veins. She has visited many times since her childhood, often for extended stays.
Her connection to language is also in her blood. Her father was the late rabbinic scholar, linguist, and polyglot Isaac Jerusalmi (she and her father chose to spell their surnames differently), who taught for decades at Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, where Yerushalmi grew up. Of Sephardic lineage on both the patrilineal and matrilineal sides–her parents are from Istanbul–Yerushalmi said, “I knew Ladino before English.”
Yerushalmi said that all proceeds from both books will go directly to rebuilding kibbutzim massacred during the October 7 attack–from Strip of Land , to Kibbutz Nir Oz; from Oc7ober Shiva , to Kibbutz Kfar Aza.
“I don’t want to benefit from these books in any way,” she said, “except in giving words to these feelings and helping people process their emotions.”
Robert Nagler Miller is a journalist and editor who writes frequently about arts- and Jewish-related topics from his home in New York.