Tag: fear

Intifada: Take Three

Today, I was on a bus.  And I had my headphones on because I like to listen to music on the bus.

But the driver…

He was in a bad mood…and I couldn’t tell why.

I didn’t know if it was because he had a fight with his wife…forgot his lunch at home…had to go through a checkpoint to get to work…was pissed off because I am a Jew…was frustrated that no matter what he does he is judged terribly…or because he is a radical Islamist who wants to kill Jews so he can be a martyr.

I couldn’t tell.

So I kept taking my headphones off and checking his face and his body language…and he was driving fast and I was waiting for him to crash into a bus or a truck or a tree and there were only old women and young girls on the bus and we didn’t have a gun and then I thought maybe I’d be the one to knock him out and grab the wheel but I wasn’t sure I could even turn the thing or reach the brake…and then Goodbye Yellow Brick Road came on so I put the headphones back on and cranked up the volume and thought it was a good song to die to.

On the way home the driver was a nice Ethiopian man and I smiled widely and thanked him profusely and wasn’t in the mood to listen to music anymore.

Because when there is an intifada…you do as you feel.  And you try to stay alive.

Death Came Knocking At My Door

Death showed himself to them yesterday…casually walking in and changing realities…and lives…the way he always does…

I don’t think he’s so bad…or so unwanted…maybe just misunderstood…

I’m told…I have no heart…no warmth for those in his path…

But…I’ve seen him…I’ve watched him do his work…and I admire his touch…

He is confused with Illness…Tragedy…Pain…but he has none of their traits…

He is gentle…and loving…and fast…very fast…

I know…that he has never caused anyone…pain…or fear…when he reaches out…and takes…

He took my son…from a tortured…immature body…

He took my friends…out of the hell…they had…created for themselves…

He took a young girl…away from tubes…and catheters…and respirators…

He took my grandmother…away from cancer…that had stolen her light…and hope…

He took my grandfather…from paralysis…and dependence…

And he took a man…who lived a good life…an independent life…from a painful place…a derogatory place…where he could have lost his dignity…if he had stayed too long…

Death is beautiful…loving…kind…

It is the One who sets the stage…for his entrance…that frightens me…

Ah Ah Aaaaaaaaaah Ah!

I’m having emotional writer’s block as of late.

There are so many topics I could write about, so many things that have happened in the world, in Israel, in my immediate surroundings…but…

…I don’t like telling the world my opinions on things.  I have a lot of thoughts I used to think I could share, if not with everyone, at least with those closest to me.

Well, sharing how I think ostracized me from people and got me into debates that somehow turned ugly and personal.  I’m working on keeping my mouth shut with whatever family I have left and because I didn’t with other people, I have no friends to speak of.

Hence the hesitance to tell the World Wide Web anything about anyone but me.

I am a world in itself, and all that happens within me is only mine to share.

It will always be unique, it will always stand alone, and it should never, in theory, personally offend anyone else.

That being said, I’ve been drawing a blank.  Wait, that’s not entirely true, I’ve been drawing a huge, black and bold question mark spinning around my head with ever-increasing speed.

What IS going on with me?

The world that is me is changing, and fast.  There are so many, too many, new experiences going on at once.  Life is out of control and it looks like the brakes are out.

So I’m holding on.

For dear life.

And I’m scared.