I used to publish a lot of poetry and translation in the U.S.  It was pretty simple.  I would send in a few poems to a journal, with a stamped self-addressed envelope for the response, and within a few month a journal would appear.  Today the process is much simpler.  Submissions are through submittable and take a second to send out.  But I never get an answer.  Sometimes a standard rejection, but usually nothing.  I used to attribute it to my diminishing talent, but it has become clear that my Israeli address has made a difference.  I am one of the bad guys who chose to remain here even when the “dream” of Zionism developed into something less than desirable.  

And what is my reward?  My Israeli publisher is pretty much ghosting me because I’m not famous anymore.   I know I should go back to my old publishers and renew old ties, but I’m frozen.

Why?  I’m stuck in a land I can’t defend and can’t change.  All I can do is make my own life as humane and poetic as I can, and to try to influence as many others – Jews and Palestinians – to try to come together.   The atmosphere here seems to be changing a bit, and I can do my little part to contribute to it.

But it is a little part, I know.