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Shiva in the Pessach home is unique. Visitors stream in and out, and a special warmth exudes throughout the house. Behind me, an enlarged happy family photo takes up a large section of a wall. Along the same wall stands a small table displaying the photo of Netanel
Most of the soldiers in my company are not religious. As a commander, I have a squad of soldiers working close to me – a driver, someone in charge of communications, and a navigator. They are not religious, but they know that I’m strict about putting on tefillin every day. Even if I don’t have time to daven, I always put on tefillin – every single day.
I rise above you higher than any of you would yearn to reach
Above the throngs of congregating people
Crying, grieving, trying to make sense
From your view on the ground.
But my view is vast
And open.
417 days I lay hovering in the shadow of God
But now I see rays of light above the clouds
No shadow
Just God.
This time last year it’s early in the morning and I am suddenly roused from sleep.
Could it be…? Is this a siren? We are usually warned about red alert sirens, indicating that we are being shot at by missiles, but this morning it came unexpectedly. No sign at all.
Through my confusion, I dragged myself out of bed.
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.
Across the yard
Where the Sukkah still stood
We could hear the beat to the drums of war
As we danced and rejoiced
With the holy Torah,
I warily turned the lock of the door
As I completed my notes, I received a WhatsApp from my neighbour. Do I have some cat food for her cat? Just one cup. Thanks to our band of foster street cats, we have a plentiful supply. Chicken is the flavour of the month.
“You can have five cups, six cups,” I write. “Come on over.”
But in my endearing, childish little way, I don’t have the patience to wait. I grab two disposable cups, fill each with the cat food, and head along the wet pavement in my pyjamas and socked feet to Sigal’s house. The air is biting.
I approach the entrance and thump twice on the door, then gingerly open it. It’s just the end of November, but Sigal already has the heating on in her home.
“You didn’t have to come to me,” she says. “I would have come.”
If you ever drive southwards towards the Negev, remember to look just ahead of you, because there, flying very low, you may see a spectacular sight of buzzards; they might have even been eagles. Hooked beaks, so clear in view, and wings spread wide as they glide in unison; a surreal embodiment of the primordial.
And further down the road, an encounter with a low-flying flock of pelicans must be one of the most breathtaking sights I have seen in my life: white bodies with wings waving gracefully through the air. They seem to swoop you up and carry you with them heavenward.
Photo: Sarah Pritzker Srigim, Israel17 November, 2023 No need to utter a sound.Is the groanOf each fibreAs a single dropSoaksThe fabric of a shirtNot enough? Nor dislodge a whimperBecause I can hear your tearsLike an echo
“We’re not from around here,” I say, displaying a facial expression that seems half facetious, half tongue-in-cheek. Ariella cracks up. “Of course you’re not from here! Now come here to the storeroom, I want to give