hiatus

Sh'ma Koleinu – Alternative Jewish Voices (NZ) is now also merging with Dayenu. But they'll be maintaining their blog still here.

Internationally, the most reputable orgs I'm familiar with are...

Jewish Voice for Peace in the US.

If Not Now also in the US.

Kavod which is in Boston in the US.

Jews Against White Supremacy which is fairly new and based in the US.

Tzedek which is an explicitly anti-Zionist synagogue in Chicago in the US.

Chavurah For A Free Palestine at Kehilla Community Synagogue is a pro-Palestinian group in Piedmont, California in the U.S.

Judaism on Our Own Terms in North America.

Independent Jewish Voices in Canada.

Loud Jew Collective in Australia.

Jews Against Fascism in Melbourne, Australia.

TzedekUKI covers both the UK and Ireland.

Jewdas is in the UK.

Een Andere Joodse Stem - Another Jewish Voice is in Belgium.

Shabbes 24/7 Collective is also in Belgium.

Tsedek ! Collectif juif décolonial is in France.

Junts - Associació catalana de jueus i palestins is in Catalonia.

Jüdisch Antikolonial is in Switzerland.

            ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── a continuation from this post, for @voxvulgi .

         𝐈𝐅 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄 — no, like a music box, dancing and dancing until the gear stops turning, and the music draws to a stop. The room smells of perfumed sweat and stale sex — and already, Francis knows that he and Adonis both know the rules of this game. They play the part of criminals, and now must cover up the crime that was committed simply by existing, for daring to feel. For daring to —

     His mouth is slightly parted and his expression dazed. If he dare say the word ‘love’ now, if he dare even think it — what might happen next? The script has been written out for them — and to go against it would either be very foolish, or very brave — but neither of them will dare step out of this room hand in hand. There will be no climactic performance in which Adonis leaves his home and his wife to pursue the unknown. Francis knows this, because he also knows that while the prospect of love runs deep, fear might run deeper still. The thought of falling from grace, reaching for his golden cage as he plummets from it flightless — it’s a terrifying prospect.

       So, what happens should one wake up from a dream to find it still in his grasp, hovering just on the edge of waking up, of harsh reality. Can one exist in a world where they know that they’ve lost love? What happens if the glass slipper isn’t offered to the princess? What happens if the prince hesitates on true love’s kiss? What happens if they both decide it’s just too hard? What kind of story follows. Francis doesn’t want to know. He’s always loved fairytales far too much for reality to get in the way.

     Only...

     Adonis’s hand is soft against his, gentle as he’d been with the keys on the piano the night before, and Francis can’t help but allow his long, cool fingers to curl around the warmth that his lover promises with such a touch — even knowing that it’s a promise that cannot be kept.

     He watches, almost still as Adonis — still unclothed, still beautiful — tries to slip into the veneer of ‘son to be proud of’ or, perhaps it is ‘the perfect husband’. And Francis should seize the moment and fight for love, as all great heroes do. He can still hear the music passing Adonis’s parted, kiss-swollen lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each note tugged from him. He can still see the way that he’d shone in the dim light like a god. Francis can still feel that body pressed so intimately to his — taste his skin, feel his body give in as it had fallen apart in Francis’s arms. Where he belongs.

      Adonis makes his plea, and Francis can feel his chest heave with the weight of his heart. His chest has been too heavy for such a long time now. He’s carried the world for so long, and he just wants to put it down. To put it down and go back to bed — to cradle Adonis and smile rather than shed tears that they’ve found something divine that feels like the greatest secret of the Universe.

With his heart open and his imagination paralysed, Adonis has no clue what to expect of Francis. He only knows that Francis is not a vicious man, that although he wears the sun, he does not carry the illusion of being the centre of the universe. Francis is not a man who would put his own wants and needs above someone else's. Francis is not a man who would...insist. What did that even mean?

Adonis knew that his partner's reaction to his tears and pleas would be gentle -- as gentle as his fingers on the violin and his lips on Adonis' skin. But he did not expect for Francis' hands to pull him in, mould his head into the warm welcome of his chest. Francis' heart, which Adonis already knew to be a hearth full of embers, sheltered the last bits of Adonis' sanity for mere moments. The storm in his mind, the raging and rumbling of wrath promised to him since birth, all muffled and weakened by the simple proximity to Francis' heartbeat.

And then the lips came, careful and loving on Adonis' sweaty hair. These lips kissed him as though he was whole, as though he smelled like cologne instead of sweat and sex. And even then, with every possible expression of Francis' body that promised he cared and understood, the words uttered by Francis' rosy lips surprised Adonis enough to sway him off his feet.

Yes, Adonis was on his knees as he listened to the words. I see you, Francis said. I will keep this close to my heart, he promised. But most of all--

You will be safe.

You will be safe.

A claim so giant, so grand that nobody could possibly guarantee it. Safe, a warmth and steadiness Adonis hadn't felt for a single day of his life.

And yet, when Francis said it...Adonis could do nothing but believe him.

And it wasn't a sense of being safe from what they did. It wasn't a sense of being safe from his feelings for Francis, sudden as they may be. On the contrary, Francis ensured that Adonis felt safe in what they did, in his feelings for Francis. He wouldn't be safe the moment Francis stepped out of this room or this house; rather, he felt safe here and now, with his head pressed against Francis' gigantic heart.

Maverick was smiling by the time he was ready to answer Althea, leaning forward a bit and keeping a steady gaze as he spoke.

“When I am in those empty fields, I empty my mind. I get rid of all the clutter that circles around in there and then, I feel renewed. Reborn, even. I think about the birds, and how a mother bird is never trained in the ways to build their nest or how to gather food for their young, and yet they still manage to find a way. I think about the deer and how the family sticks together and travels, and how each member has a role in protecting the young. I think about how mankind must have learned all this from witnessing animals themselves. And at the same time, nature is not perfect. There are rivalries and bloodshed between animals, so there is the same with humans. Would it be the most idealistic thing for me to say- that I wish there was no bloodshed and dirty politics in the world?”

Maverick seems to be a poet, unbeknownst to even himself. Though, to be fair, anyone could be a poet when they speak about life. The very reality of existence was controversial and confusing and-- wonderful. Not just human existence, mind you, but the deer and birds that fascinated Maverick so much. Althea could say that they fascinated her, too, though not to the extent of her companion. This was what made conversations so magical: Another person's words could make you appreciative of things you've never thought twice about.

For the most part, however, the true appreciation building up in Althea's mind now was of Maverick.

"Bloodshed and dirty politics could easily be agreed upon. I don't think you'll meet a single person who approves...unless they have a hand in them, that is." And then, of course, there were the people who turned a blind eye to their friends' practices. Ask them if they approve of slave labour, and they'll yell God, no! while inviting their friends with claims in overseas mines over for dinner.

What do you love, Althea? The question is what do you love, not what makes you angry.

" The phase of risking our lives to show what is happening is over now and the phase of trying to survive has started. I have reported enough and God knows it was for his sake and for my country.

We are living now under internal siege.. we can neither go north nor south.. the Israeli tanks are surrounding the middle area from north and south. Our situation is tragic more than you can imagine.. remember we are not content to be shared, we are a nation being killed in the cause of trying not to be erased..

How alone we are.."

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