There are so many unknowns that I don’t even know what to write about. So many questions. Israeli security debacle. Hamas’ violence. Palestinian rights. Israeli fear. Failure of Israeli government. Failure of the Republican Party. Russia in Ukraine. Iran. Too, too much.

So I divert. I chanced upon a poem yesterday, written by John Farrar. You may know of Farrar (more likely, you may not) as the founder of the publishing house Farrar, Straus and Giroux. But he was also a poet – and a clever one at that.

So, bear with me a minute. Sit back and relax and read this poem to the end. The, go about your day, and fix the world.

I am just going to quote his poem:

The Jealous Lover

“If I were an Arab

With a battle horse to ride,

I’d show you how I loved you,

I’d win you for my bride.

I’d ride across the desert

Like an untamed, unfixed star

Where the white moons fire the spear

And the ghosts of warriors are

I’d whirl my sword in golden gyres,

Till my enemy lay dead,

And where I held my gift for you,

The white horse would be red.

But I am not an Arab

So I must make you rhymes

And send you pale tea roses,

Oh! these are stupid times.

And if I were an Arab,

Bringing gifts to you

and found beneath your tent flap

Another Arab, too.

I’d choke him like a rabbit

I’d crack him rib and thigh

I’d throw his carcass to the night

And toss his wet head high.

I’d throw his head across the moon

Till all the sky was red,

I’d toss his trappings to the stars,

I’d dance upon him, dead!

I’d catch you with my dripping hands

I’d light you like a flame,

Till you forgot that Arab’s voice,

That Arab’s face and name.

But I am not an Arab,

And when I see him go

As I come up the stairs to you

I smile, and say “hello”.”

It’s not Shakespeare; I understand that.