Diaspora, a poem

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Sometimes exile cuts like a knife

Away from my home is just a half life

Don’t know if feeling this lost is worth the cost

How long can my soul stand

to be away from the Holy land?

From Boston I can clearly see, it’s Am Yisrael that calls to me

And my greatest fear, do I betray my people while I stay here?

Friends lay down their lives on the front line

And I am in college biding my time

Is this for them, or is this for me?

Will the nation benefit from my degree?

I  come to terms with reality

Exile means I am not yet free.

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