My Country

It's moments like these that make me rethink life. I'm not such a spiritual person. But it is starting to feel like the end of days. Like the end is near. If there is another plan. It feels like it's about to happen. I sit here and think how I am in the wrong place. I shouldn't be here. I should be there. Standing tall with my people. Israelis.

Is it bad that it's not my Jewish pride, rather my Israeli pride that is itching to get out. That is desperate to go. To defend a country I love. A country that is my real home. To wave the flag and wear the colors. Blue and white. And show the world that we can not be defeated. We will not be defeated.

I wish to get on a plane and fly halfway across the world to be in the right place. The place where I belong. To be steeped in the culture. Soaked with the quality and influence of the land. Surrounded by endless beauty. Enveloped in the warmth and palm trees. I yearn to hear the language spoken on every street-corner. Hebrew. To touch the ground. The stone of the old city. I wish to argue with the tomato vendor in the shuk. Machane Yehuda. To smell the aromas of freshly baked rugelach and lachmagine.

The longing overwhelms me. And the anger. The anger towards the rest of the world. The media. Politicians. The average Joe. Who turn a blind eye. Refuse to see the truth. That a country smaller than Rhode Island is under constant attack. Civilian stabbings. Bomb scares. The feeling of chaos. Feeling unsafe. The fear of the unknown. The stench of death in every city. The blood pouring through the drains.

I look around and see indifference. And I wonder. Am I just like these people. Watching my country go down in flames. And not doing anything to stop it. A bystander. What am I doing to make a difference.