What shall we name this newborn war,
how honor its multi-national heritage?
Shall we call it “Independence,” after its father,
or “Nakba,” after its mother?
Maybe “World War,” after its illustrious grandparents?
Or will we pluck a date off the innocent calendar,
soiling forever the good name of October 7?
With what patriotic, pious words will we memorialize its dead:
children, elders, women, leftists, right-wingers, nationalists,
kibbutzniks, secularists, believers, fighters, peaceniks?
What stories will we tell this infant war, what songs sing to it?
Will we feed its voracious appetite and watch it grow,
or find a way to mercifully put it to sleep?