The Hostage’s Cry

Tick-tock.
The moments are forever.
A hostage of Hamas, deep underground in the subterranean tunnels of Gaza.
It’s stifling hot and dark, and the air is damp and musty.
I can barely breathe.
The walls feel as if they are closing in on me.
I am claustrophobic.

Tick-tock.
They strip us.
They brutally beat us.
Our wounds ooze and fester.
We can’t say a word.
They rape us again and again.
Time has stopped.
I cry out inside, and I feel like I am losing my mind.

Tick-tock.
There is only a little water.
Almost no food.
We have no medicine.
We can’t wash.
Everything smells putrid.
We are the living dead.

Tick-tock.
We don’t know where our family is.
Are they dead or alive?
We are isolated.
In a blackened void.
Kept in cages.
Worse than any animal.

Tick-tock.
We hear explosions above.
The terrorists are getting nervous.
They train the sights of their guns on us.
They laugh as they see us squirm.
The blast doors and tunnels are bobby-trapped.
No one is getting out alive.

Tick-tock.
I miss my family and friends.
I miss the golden light of Jerusalem.
Has Zion forgotten me?
Has G-d abandoned me?
Where is everyone?

Tick-tock.
The days are, oh, so long.
The years of the past now seem so short.
I am waiting for salvation.
In my heart, I pray over and over:
“Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d,
King of the Universe,
Who sets free those in bonds.”
I know you are coming to rescue me.
I am waiting for you.