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lacing my fingers togetherI wondershould I kneelstandmaybe salute althoughI well comprehendthe rulesof a regiment I’m at a lossto knowwhat regimented rulesapply here in thisnowhere space a temple of clouds unknowingmy corporeal selfstruggles to conveythe solemnityof my
At the corner of Kaplan and Ibn Gvirol,
you stand next to me waiting to cross,
a tower of olive with dust on your boots,
and I barely subdue a primal urge
to wrap my arms around you.
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.
Last night, I went to the kotel and prayed. I didn’t pray like I normally pray. I imagined I was Shiri Bibas praying for herself and her husband and her children in Hamas captivity. I do not know if she’s allowed to pray out loud where she is. I am sure most of her thoughts are prayers.