Be “surprised by joy,” Wordsworth wrote. When I first started writing, I felt that writing had only room for pain or room for trauma. Of course, those things exist and those are part of life. But life is more layered and laced, and it should be. Even in a war zone in the desert, the white retama flowers and a lizard will sometimes walk by.
As part of my series about “individuals and organizations making an important social impact”, I had the pleasure of interviewing Yael S. Hacohen.
Yael S. Hacohen is a writer, educator, and former Israeli soldier currently living in Tel Aviv, Israel. After serving in the Israeli army, rising to the rank of commander, as part of Israel’s mandatory military service, Yael was encouraged to journal during her deployment. This led to her writing a series of poems based on her lived experiences, as well as inspired by these experiences, part of which has become her anticipated collection, releasing in 2024, titled “The Dove That Didn’t Return” (Holy Cow! Press). This collection features the poem “Amos 3:5,” the winner of the prestigious Barbara Mandigo Kelly Peace Poetry Award. Her book explores the humanity in us all when faced with impossibly complex situations including war, family, duty, violence, and compassion.
Thank you so much for joining us in this interview series! Can you tell us a story about what brought you to this specific career path as a poet and educator? What inspired you to start writing poetry and what do you hope your audience will gain from reading your work?
I started writing poetry when I was drafted into the army. I was an eighteen-year-old who just finished her high school AP test in literature a month ago. Suddenly, I found myself in the heat of summer, in the desert, going through basic training. Sand found its way into every corner of my being. Every morning, fresh bruises appeared on my body. Even language was completely new. Words like “wall,” “shift,” and “breathe” took on unfamiliar meanings, and I had to relearn what it meant to speak.
I started using poetry to navigate through, to help me make sense of what I was experiencing.
It has been said that our mistakes can be our greatest teachers. Can you share a story about a mistake you made when you were first starting? Can you tell us what lesson you learned from that?
In one of my first writing classes at Tel Aviv University, I was feeling courageous, and I volunteered to be the first one to read my short story aloud to the class. My teacher then had the entire workshop go around and say only what they thought was wrong with the piece. So, one fellow writer didn’t like the title, the next didn’t like the ending, the next didn’t find the character believable, and on and on. By the end, I had felt as if I had been hit by a freight train.
But she was right; it was one of the most significant gifts I had ever received. In the sense that I had to learn immediately that I was not my work. That lesson taught me that once I wrote the piece and edited it, the piece had to stand on its own two legs. It had to make its own way in the world. The piece could falter or stumble, strut, or dance. A piece could even fail entirely, and that wouldn’t mean that I was a failure. I simply had to write another piece and try to make the new piece stronger and sharper, so that it could survive on its own.
Can you describe how you are making a significant social impact through your poetry?
That’s such an important question. Poetry can be very impactful, not like a car or an umbrella, but still impactful. That is because poetry is very close to prayer. It’s a practice of belief, where you fold words into the world and hope (sometimes against hope) that those words will be heard.
In many religions, the oldest forms of prayers are poetry. In Judaism, for example, the Biblical book of Psalms is an entire anthology of hymns.
All this is to say that I have to have faith, a hope against hope, that my poetry will be used for a new kind of dialogue in our society, one that embraces humanity.
Can you tell us a story about a particular individual who inspired you on this career path?
I have to say I’ve been so lucky in my life with poetry mentors. Too many come to mind: Edward Hirsch, Deborah Landau, Marianne Constable, Catherine Barnett, Yusef Komunyakaa, and Susan Schweik were some of my greatest teachers.
Craig Morgan Teicher was the first person to see value in my war poems. He’s also the best editor I’ve ever had. Teicher guided me in my master’s, and he used to come to our meetings with mountains of books upon books for me to read and ideas for me to work through. He wanted me to pull inspiration from everyone from Rumi to Lucille Clifton. He was knowledgeable, kind, and decisive. He had once cut an entire poem of mine down to just two lines — and I have to admit that it’s still, to this day, one of my favorite poems.
Please share with us the inspiration in creating your book of poetry “The Dove That Didn’t Return”?
The image of the dove that didn’t return comes from the biblical story of Noah’s arc. In the Bible, Noah sent out the dove three times to see if the water had receded. The first time, the dove returned having no place to rest; the second time, she returned to Noah with an olive leaf in her mouth; and the third time, she didn’t return.
I thought it would be intriguing to imagine the narrative from the dove’s perspective. Maybe she has her own reasons for not returning to the arc.
In so many ways, we are living through the biblical stories over and over again: David and Goliath, Isaac and Ishmael. In my poetry, I wanted to ask what would happen if we told the war stories from a different perspective. How would the stories break?
As an Educator — what life lessons do you hope to instill in your students?
One of my teachers, whom I mentioned earlier, was Edward Hirsch. I think about him often when I’m teaching. He has a way of writing through memory and into joy. He writes like a messenger carrying his poems across galaxies, curious and exhilarated by what he delivers.
It’s hard to think about joy now when the world is so bleak, but I think it’s imperative. We have to stay alive, and that means we have to find ways of holding on to wonder.
What are your “5 things I wish someone told me when I first started” as a poet/author and why. Please share a story or example for each.
1 . Be “surprised by joy,” Wordsworth wrote. When I first started writing, I felt that writing had only room for pain or room for trauma. Of course, those things exist and those are part of life. But life is more layered and laced, and it should be. Even in a war zone in the desert, the white retama flowers and a lizard will sometimes walk by.
2 . Boxes can be useful. There are a lot of discussions within poetry about not needing to fit into other people’s boxes. While there is definitely truth in that, it’s important to remember that boxes are very useful objects. You can hide in them; you can make forts out of them; they are wonderful when you move. By that, I mean that there is a lot to learn from other people’s social expectations and other people’s traditions. For me, titles like “Commander,” “Jew,” and “Mother” all have a very rich set of behaviors that other people expected, all of which I had to learn (and then relearn). Boxes can be when you must expand the meaning of who you are.
3. But don’t get too used to them. Boxes and titles all have their limits. You have to learn when to put thoose down, pick them back up, and make them your own. Being too comfortable within limitations is in opposition to creativity.
4 . Rejection is frequent and part of the process. There is no other way except through. C.D Wright calls time, rejection, and discouragement the “natural predators” of poets.
5 . Learn about your history, your traditions, your roots. Those roads will ground you when all else becomes unsure.
You are a person of enormous influence. If you could inspire a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the most amount of people, what would that be? You never know what your idea can trigger. 🙂
Wonder is such an old idea, and it’s associated almost exclusively with childhood. As if, somehow, the world ceases to surprise us when we become adults. But if anything, through poetry, I found that the world to be a place of constant reverence.
Can you please give us your favorite “Life Lesson Quote”? Can you share how that was relevant to you in your life and/or how it pertains to your book?
The poet Yehuda Amicai wrote “From the place where we are right / flowers will never grow / in the spring.” It’s a line from my father’s favorite Amichai poem, and it carries weight on my book and in the world today. Only when we loosen the loosen own righteousness can the green seeds begin to take root.
Is there a person in the world, or in the US with whom you would like to have a private breakfast or lunch with, and why? He or she might just see this, especially if we tag them. 🙂
I love war poets, I learned such much from them. Muriel Rukeyser, Denise Levertov, Audre Lorde, I could name fifty that I cherish. I’m thinking here especially of Joy Harjo, the warrior poet, who uses her poetry as a map through the labyrinth of her community’s history.
How can our readers further follow your work online and purchase your book?
My book is available for pre-order on Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/-/he/Yael-S-Hacohen/dp/1737405199) on Barnes and Noble (https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-dove-that-didnt-return-yael-s-hacohen/1143970184?ean=9781737405191)
And you can follow me on my website yaelshacohen.com
This was very meaningful, thank you so much. We wish you only continued success in your great work!
Social Impact Heroes: Why & How Author Yael Hacohen Is Helping To Change Our World was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.