The surf beneath the Southern Cross swells, cries,
with bloody wakes of ghosts from war-torn shores;
it breaks on beachhead Bondi, foams red, roars.
Again. The deep wails: Have we Jews not eyes?
If you strike us, we bruise; hunt us, our cores
shake; bury slugs in our soft skin, we sink
to earth. The blessèd knives—Sharia’s ink—
carve pounds of flesh. New pogroms at the door.
You—paper Crown—mete out our storm. The brink
calls home: from their red river to your seas.
Police peel back; unarmed hands take your oaths,
plant feet in sand, stomach slugs, promise peace:
Never Again. All your hollow vows o'erflow—
on beachhead Bondi—butchers reap revenge.
Author’s note
Written as a sonnet in response to the December 14, 2025 terrorist attack at Bondi Beach in Sydney, which targeted a Hanukkah celebration in broad daylight.