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. . . My mother sits on a low stool and her head is slumped forward on her breast and her eyes are red. Evening is nearly upon us; and the memorial candle is burning on the windowsill . . .
Papa has…
Contributor:
Dvora Baron
Date:
1911
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“The birds, Regina! The birds! The birds!” he cried out. “You don’t hear? Our child…Issachar!…Issachar!…Regina!…That bird…Issachar…that bird…that bird.…”
When Luna entered the room with her bridegroom…
Contributor:
Dan-Benaya Seri
Places:
Jerusalem, Israel
Date:
1987
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I wipe the dust off my books
with a small t-shirt, an old t-shirt
which was once my son’s. We have
more dust this summer than last,
and its composition is different…
Contributor:
Aryeh Sivan
Places:
Tel Aviv, Israel
Date:
1989
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The Mother enters, carrying the dead Child in her arms; approaches the pile.
The Mother:Hello, dead children.
I brought my son here.
He’s dead. He’ll lie with you.
Dead Children:You…
Contributor:
Hanoch Levin
Places:
Tel Aviv, Israel
Date:
1991