I never spoke to him; I never knew his name.
But from afar, I guessed whose brother he was
— and whose son.
It’s painful to think him gone.
It’s hard to understand.
The sacrifice of our sons, our brothers, our lovers.
The pain of the living is long-lasting;
the pain of death is quick…
– – and death so everlasting.
But the pain I feel and the tears I shed are real.
I cry for Yael, for Yeheskiel
for Gugu, Uri, and Hagar.
But most of all I cry for Yariv… whose chances are all gone.
Kfar Giladi, June 11 1982.