An ocean of thoughts during wartime

With the heat constantly rising, I stay inside, biding my time, waiting for war to end.  Sadness has run its course. I can no longer watch or listen to news.  I’ve closed myself in the eye of the storm, moving slowly as it does.

At 5 a.m., I relish the birds, who despite it all live as they always have, chirping in various tunes, one to one, two to two.

When the summer wind subsides the trees hardly move and the birds seek shade until a wisp of cool air enters the sky, bringing relief.

I no longer drive much but when I did I found a second battle ground, people jostling for position, inching each other, scraping paint and giving the finger. Yes, it’s war out there.

For relief, I stare at the trees who know no war. I feel their gentle dance as if it was touching my bare dry skin. This brings me comfort if only for a few minutes.  The trees’ awesome unity allows different strokes and tempos in their otherwise synchronized dance.  I think that as a people we have lost the capacity to celebrate our differences while finding common ground.

For a few minutes we see nightly faces projected on our screen; they are often smiling next to a memorial candle.  We feel sad for a minute or two, then return to the ghastly commercials for vacuum cleaners, banks, flashing cars..as if they are part of another world that instead of soothing the wounds, ignores them.  Together we are scattered not gently midst the horrors of wars.  All this leaves me exhausted to tell.

The summer weaves on in torrid heat tossing blanket after blanket until we can hardly breathe.  Artists are on call, but receive no work. They still create, they still persist.

Our leaders bark like dogs and argue with anger, not passion.  This show is the most disgusting phase of war, while our enemies relish the madness.

For me, isolation is my survival.  I am ashamed to say that I have been too tired and sick to join the brave souls who demonstrate.  The courage of our youth in battle is eons away from the leaders who battle for strategic position. Selfless youth vs. self-centered mooch. I cringe thinking about our hostages’ lives; their courage has been unimaginable. I have learned to cry again.

I shudder to think what’s next, where the north will hide when barrages of rockets fly by.  My thoughts return to the Cuban missile crisis when as kids we crouched under our school desks waiting for the mushroom cloud to appear.  Our kids know no such war, but our leaders do.  Heaven forbid!  I pray the threat goes away or at least hides in disguise until I am tucked away.  But what of my children? What of our youth, the great minds forming in our midst?

Maybe my words are poppycock; they are just the thoughts of a veteran-aged man who still can sing a tune and write a riddle. I hope the stage shifts from red to normal.

Shabbat Shalom to all!