POEM: One-Sixtieth Prophecy
Near the house,
next to the woodpile,
lies a dream
too weak to enter.
I hold my shadow down as it
tries to escape, shut the windows,
bar the doors, imagine myself
bright and shiny.
I am Joseph in the bor, the pit, empty of water,
but full of scorpions and serpents.
There is no one to listen
to my dreams, no one to interpret them but God.
Or I am Pharaoh.
The interpretations
do not satisfy me, I do not find any relief.
Who will interpret for me?
God will heal you with your own
wounds, declares the prophet Jeremiah.
Why I became the Forward’s editor-in-chief
You are surely a friend of the Forward if you’re reading this. And so it’s with excitement and awe — of all that the Forward is, was, and will be — that I introduce myself to you as the Forward’s newest editor-in-chief.
And what a time to step into the leadership of this storied Jewish institution! For 129 years, the Forward has shaped and told the American Jewish story. I’m stepping in at an intense time for Jews the world over. We urgently need the Forward’s courageous, unflinching journalism — not only as a source of reliable information, but to provide inspiration, healing and hope.
— Alyssa Katz, editor-in-chief
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