Back in
Israel,
Back home,
Reliving
sweaty days at the kibbutz,
Sitting here
writing all alone,
Feel like
composing a song for my people, for the country I so love, for all I hold dear,
These sweaty
July days when people in the country heed no fear,
No fear of
the past, no fear of death, just longing for better days to come,
To shout out
in glee,
For all
that’s done is behind us,
And there
are only good things, warm summer days beyond,
Where no man
has walked,
Where no
woman has cried,
Where no
little child has fallen down,
Where no
human-Jew or Arab has died.
As I sit,
relax, sip some ice coffee in a bar just off Yehuda,
I think of
days when modern-day Maccabies stood tall, the likes of Judah,
Took on
armies just a few feet from where I sit,
These hot, trying
days and nights are fit,
For heroes’
stories, dreams of giving back,
Of armies
taking flight,
Of going on
the attack.
I have so
much love, so much desire to be here in July,
My Aliya
month,
The time, I
myself, tried in vain, cried out, lied,
Took hold of
all that was important and moved back home,
This time in
July I feel every kotel stone,
Remember my
people’s past,
Remember
where I came from, and my destination,
Remember to
keep my dreams afloat, to drown out my frustration.
I’m getting
used to being here,
To being
happy at long last,
And people
all around me cry,
As they try
so hard to forget the past,
Days,
months, years gone by,
We try to
gather up what we’ve lost,
With every
passing moment,
We struggle
as we assess the cost.
I read Rav
Kook’s “Sparks” and know what my mission in this world is
To light up
the dark Av sky,
To help end
this painful Exile,
To spark a
flood of brotherhood and unity,
To never
fully fall, always get up and try,
To keep on
trying when all has failed
And I’ll
know my dreams and plans have prevailed
When I open
my door this very day next year
And the
Messiah beckons to come near
When my
People are brought back from every corner of the world
Then, and
only then,
Will my own
story have been told.
