Alone, in a pitch black empty sand and rock filled parking lot, sitting in my car about to drive off, the Siren of Tears and Memories blasted.
Alone to bear witness, I stepped out of my car and stood as the Wail of Lament sounded throughout the Land.
Wails of Mothers and Fathers, Wives and Husbands, Brothers and Sisters, Sons and Daughters, Angels and the Cries of the Heavenly Father, turning the surrounding sand into a battlefield.
There, in front of me, lay the severely wounded Palmach soldier. Who took his life to save his four friends, so they would not endanger themselves by carrying him across the battlefield. He was barely 18 years old.
There, in front of me, was the Irgun fighter, lying lifeless in the sand.
There, in front of me, was the Haganah and Stern Youth, bleeding to their last drop.
There, in front of me, was the brave soldier who volunteered his life to draw out the snipers at the Milta pass.
There, in front of me, were the Six Days and Nights I wondered and prayed if my Father would return.
There, in front of me, were war orphans whose Fathers never returned.
There, in front of me, were soldiers of athletic prowess, without legs or arms or faces begging to die.
There, in front of me, was war and war and war.
There, in front of me, was a pizza shop, a hotel lobby, a bus stop, a nursery, a beach, a Seder night – each a battlefield.
There, in front of me, were 26,661 fallen souls, 26,661 dreams, 26,661 glorious heroes and heroines, 26,661 families, friends, and tears.
There, in front of me, are 26,661 Mothers that cry themselves to sleep every night.
As they stood in front of me, just as I could feel the battlefield, the Siren had stopped, sending its echo to fly into the night sky.
120 seconds of wailing. 120 seconds of Eternity. 120 seconds of unbearable grief.
May no Soul ever be added again to the Siren of Souls.
Amen va Amen!!!!