Translated from the Hebrew by Hila Bar
Planting flowers in my Sderot garden, my hand felt the earth that day.
And then my heart knew that to light up the soul, we have to keep fear at bay.
My legs marched on along familiar roads; my eyes welled with tears of the past.
But my heart was alert, despite hands full of soil, which contained all the metal shards.
My lips said a prayer with those holy souls, who died so we could go on living.
My heart cried out please embrace us like sons; be merciful, loving, and giving.
The flowers’ beauty reflected the good light of God; I closed my eyes, withdrew my gaze.
My body inhaled the cool southern air, felt the caress of the sun’s comforting rays.
The day I planted flowers, I signed a new pact with the country that gave birth to me.
Watered with tears and pain for my broken nation, my soul’s deep identity.
I drew away from the red and black of war, to see pinks, yellows, purples growing.
I nodded, acknowledged what we don’t understand, as we simply are not all-knowing.
A leaf small and green, flutters and peers from behind the smeared haze of grey.
The world is being watched and guided; a divine plan for Israel’s at play.
Part of life is a silence that’s beautiful; blooming has to take time.
I learned this all from the depths of my soul, the day I put flowers in the grime.
