By Hannah Senesh
One, two, three
Eight feet long,
Two strides across, the rest is dark
Life hangs over me like a question mark.
One, two, three
Maybe another week,
Or next month may still find me here,
But death, I feel, is very near.
I could have been twenty-three next July;
I gambled on what mattered most,
The dice were cast. I lost.
Hannah Senesh died after emigrating from Hungary to Palestine and participating in the resistance effort during the Holocaust.
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