Could anybody raise her head,
her kitchen crushed, bed bombed,
and sing, Though fig trees do not bud,
the vine is bare, the fields produce no food,
yet I will rejoice in Thee, My Lord ?
My own house stands.
Dare I complain?
Dare I be glad
while history metastasizes on our land?
My father sleeping towards his death,
I left his bedside
for a deli near the hospital
and had a sandwich so delicious
that I cried.
With the World in Retrograde
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Critica is an inclusive and transdisciplinary publishing platform that focuses on offering a reflective and aesthetic space to consider social and cultural issues through a psychoanalytic and creative lens. It is also a forum for ideas at the intersection of psychoanalysis, creativity, philosophy, and the social sciences.
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