by Howard Jacobson on (#6FJY3)
There was no pause for pity as false narratives justifying murder took hold before the blood had driedAn old man sits amid the destruction on what's left of a wall and lets the tears stream from his eyes. He seems not to have the strength to dry them. Maybe he means never to dry them. A woman clutches her head, not knowing which way to turn. She has lost her children. There is no one near to help her find them. She won't find them. I don't know that for sure but my fears for her authorise me to say it. We are in a world emptied of good fortune, never mind God, where children aren't found and husbands and wives don't come back.I turn off the television. My wife is out with friends. Alone, at my weakest, I let my own tears flow. They are a Jew's tears but they are all I have.Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a letter of up to 250 words to be considered for publication, email it to us at observer.letters@observer.co.uk Continue reading...