Ripples formed on the surface.
Disturbance was constant.
But this was another kind of disturbance.
She looked up at the sky so full of lights,
When she was roughly pulled into a shelter by her imah
Clutching her run-down, blue, knee-length skirt,
Meanwhile, the waves raged,
Raged against the bank on either side
The banks which were already parallel,
were repelled further apart.
The banks fought to go even farther from each other,
But the sea which separated them is what also bound them together.
Expelled from all other places,
One bank called it 'home'
While the other was determined on expulsion again.
Her nimble mind did not know that such a vast expanse of water even existed.
For her, terror and death were accepted facts, everyday truths.
Friends were temporary and candies given may not be returned.
Her braids bounced in her blue ribbons as her imah pulled her skirt lower,
She set off towards her yeshiva.
As she skipped over rubble from the remains of shops,
Her mind wandered to her favourite subject,
She thought about his clear eyes and the slight cleft in his lip.
That was all she knew.
Imah said he had died shortly after the whistles started.
But she looked into his seemingly black, but blue eyes, and found consolation in them.
She held onto the photograph every morning as she vaguely remembered looking at them,
From high in the sky
Another kind of blueness began increasing.
The banks which were being pulled apart by a set of ropes which were held,
Twisted and pulled,
From thousands of miles away
The banks squirmed but surrendered
And pulled and pulled apart as the waves banged angrily against both banks
He held her gaze until she blushed and looked away.
That was it,
That was all it took.
She smiled internally,
Aware of stares in her direction
Ten days later,
There they were,
At their shlom bayit
He gave her a ring in erusin
She secretly met him until she was finally his
She felt a rush in her chest,
She knew she loved this man,
And he loved her.
That’s what mattered
It didn’t matter that everything around them seemed to be ending
She had put on her rosy glasses
She hardly noticed imah’s aging cough
Her recently trembling hands
Her frail smile as she held his hands in their chupah
Through all the rubble,
In which he had lost his leg as a child,
They had found bliss,
They had found love.
The waves were quicker this time,
Their flow was a little harsh,
They splashed and wavered,
However the decision was made in a hurry,
And the waves banged against a bank,
Both banks shook.
Eleven of them had passed,
Eleven hearings of the shorah,
Multiple helpings of gourd and several of spinach,
Seven shorahs had flown by since that fateful tashlikh
They had seen Her,
The Woman was throwing Her into the water,
Like a mere piece of bread,
Something she considered to be a sin,
She wasn’t a khattath,
She was beautiful,
A blessing for them,
They had been waiting for a miracle like Her for years.
She fulfilled them,
She was their new dream
He spoke to the Woman,
As did apologies and prayers,
She was handed over to the barren without question
Now, seven shorahs later,
She called her imah,
And him abba
He saw the happiness in her eyes,
He saw the world again,
In that moment,
For a brief shining moment,
He forgot everything,
He forgot the letter sitting on the packed bags,
Forgot the order of the nation,
Forgot that happiness was impossible,
Forgot that moments such as this were temporary
He did remember this moment,
Remembered it when the light dimmed,
Remembered it when bangs became dimmer,
Remembered it when a force hit him,
As a tallit covered his body,
As he was lowered into the ground
The waves were brewing,
They seemed to ponder,
The previously wet bank rejoiced,
The waves splashed and sudden bubbles appeared,
Then without warning,
A wave rose,
It was bigger than any which had risen before,
It chose to expel,
It was on a mission,
A mission to consume lives
She saw it coming,
Saw Them coming
Her world had been askew,
he had become a shroud,
she a widow.
She saw nothing,
Nothing but her tchatchke.
The shiny trinket amused her,
She barely felt her imah pull her to the corner as colours blurred past her
She felt a brush,
Cried and reached out for her tchatchke.
But it was far,
Too far to reach with her hand,
She ran out,
And saw the tchatchke,
But before she could reach it,
A figure in green loomed over her and,
she drowned in a sea of black
She saw the shade of green,
She heard it,
She saw the fall.
Then, she did something that surprised everyone,
She rose elegantly,
And looked as she had not since he had gone,
Since she held her imah’s hands and skipped over the rubble,
She looked elegant.
She stood before the wall of green,
And waited for the moment to arrive,
The moment of harmony,
The moment of peace,
The moment of escape
It was soon delivered.