I've been thinking of this song ever since it was released in January, and I've been thinking of it in the past few weeks. I know it was written during a time when many soldiers were killed while protecting the country, but when I hear the sadness in Assaf Amdursky's voice I think of all the innocent lives lost in Gaza. Too many flowers, too many open wounds.
I thought about it again today when I heard the tragic news that the hostage Elad Katzir from Kibbutz Nir Oz was murdered in captivity. His father Rami was murdered on October 7th and his mother Hanna was also kidnapped and was released in poor condition in late November, and is still being treated at a hospital. To think that after all she has been through she has now lost her son, her star, is too much to bear.
I remember finding out through a moving video posted by Lola Marsh that they are Noa Argamani's favorite band and her favorite song is "She's a rainbow". This was on Noa's 26th birthday on October 12th, more than three months ago, and she is still held captive by Hamas with no hostage deal in sight. After several delays, the academic year started earlier this month, including at Ben-Gurion University, where Noa is a third-year engineering student. I can't even begin to imagine what her family is going through and what it is like for her friends to start the academic year without her, without knowing how she is, especially after hearing about the terrifying conditions in captivity from the hostages who came back.
A few days ago I came across this letter posted by The Free Press, written by Merav Svirsky before the heartbreaking news of her brother's death:
My name is Merav Svirsky. I'm an Israeli yoga teacher and artist. I was born and raised in Kibbutz Be'eri. On October 7 my life changed forever. Both of my parents, Orit and Rafi, were brutally murdered by the Hamas terrorists. My brother Itai (38) was kidnapped from my mother's home, and he's been held hostage in Gaza ever since. My two other brothers survived the attack, and so did my 97-year-old grandmother. Her Philippine caregiver, Grace, was murdered trying to protect her. My husband is also from Be'eri, and most of his family survived. His beloved aunt, who was a neighbor of my mother, was murdered too. Both of our families, those who survived, are now refugees in our own country. Our home was destroyed, our lives shattered.
It's inconceivable that Itai is still in Gaza. One hundred days. Writing this number makes me shiver. In the past three months, the people of Israel have been demonstrating an amazing spirit of volunteering - contributing to the war effort, supporting the refugees, helping each other. But now, people are gradually getting back to their "normal life". My greatest fear is this return to "normal life"- for our family, and for the families of the other 135 hostages, life has frozen and will not resume until our beloved ones return home alive. We're not post-traumatic, because we're in the middle of an ongoing trauma. We're under a continuous terror attack, every minute of every day.
October 7 has taught me that I cannot trust anyone and anything. I lost trust in my country, in my government, in my army. The only way to restore (some of) the lost trust is to bring them home now.
In the past three months, the Israeli leadership has been talking about achieving victory against Hamas. There's no such thing. We lost this war. My family lost this war on October 7. But although we cannot win the war, we can feel hope again. Hope should be the goal, not victory. And that hope can only be achieved by returning the hostages home. Now.
I have two sons, Eilam (7) and Keinan (4.5). They know so many people who are dead. Dozens. A few weeks ago they had a discussion between them about Itai, their beloved uncle. Eilam was arguing that he was not going to come back "because everyone else who had disappeared ended up being dead." For the future of my children - for their ability to hope - Itai must return home. Nothing is more important than that, for the future of my children, for the future of my family, and for the future of my country.
If you're still there, make a wish
And I will ask too
And if you hear my voice in a dream
I won't give up on you
And the days go by
And the nights are hard
My heart is bleeding and my soul is already broken
Until you'll come back
I won't let go, I won't rest
And until you return
I'll search for you in spirit
Writing more letters
Maybe there will be ahead
Better days
We sang your favorite song
We went out in the morning to see the sunrise
To feel a bit more alive
Your smell is still in bed
I feel you between the sheets
My heart is already becoming gray
They took away my hero
They're asking again where is dad and I have no answer
Until you'll come back
I won't let go, I won't rest
And until you return
I'll search for you in spirit
Writing more letters
Maybe there will be ahead
Better days
We sang your favorite song
And again in the dream you dance and disappear
And again I'm hiding my tears from everyone
Screaming, crying, making your voice heard for the world
It's been a tough day. We woke up to the news that four IDF soldiers were killed fighting in Gaza. I quickly checked to make sure there was no one I knew. I checked again at noon when five more names of fallen soldiers were released, all reservists who had stopped their lives to fight for us. Later in the evening I heard their stories and saw footage from a few of the funerals that took place today, parents mourning their 19-year-old son, a young woman mourning her partner: "We were supposed to create a family together, now I have joined the family of the bereaved".
One glimmer of light during this heavy day is the recent news that Idan Amedi, who was seriously injured in an explosion in Gaza, has regained consciousness, with his condition now defined as moderate. I saw Idan in concert at the end of September, a spontaneous decision I made with a friend since we wanted to enjoy an open-air concert before the winter, a decision we're both so grateful for. I wasn't sure how it would be since I was only familiar with a few of his songs, but I was won over by his immense talent and his natural ability to bring the crowd together, to make us all feel like a united group. I love how this video captures Idan's warmth and dedication, always giving 110% percent, and always performing with all his heart.
Some of the time I had concerns about what
I wanted to say and didn't, maybe I never will
In a small window in front of me, she's staring at the streetlights
How during the day they are lonely and how at night they come back to life
And sometimes it also happens to me at nights
To think about all that I wanted to be
And sometimes it's a kind of familiar smile
That helps me to make peace with what is now over
Sometimes when she's just watching the girls
It's so hard for me to hold in the tears
All those in shades of purple and green
Remind me that the good is not far anymore
It is not far anymore...
Some of the time I had clear decisions
That I will begin to be happy, to let go of all that is no more
In a small window in front of me, she's staring at the old city
Zehu Ze was one of the first shows back on during the war, I remember how the first episodes back on sensitively dealt with the situation, hosting evacuated children from the Gaza envelope, with skits that were less satirical than usual, and of course, the songs. The songs have become the heart of the show, with touching musical interpretations that always feel like the perfect choice. The first episode back ended with a moving version of 'Darkenu', with the lyrics, "It's not easy, our path is not easy/and your eyes sometimes are so sad/More blossoming fields are before us/More high mountains with cool summits". Since then the skits have become much more satirical, though reality always seems to be giving a good fight, and the song choices have become a soundtrack to this heartbreaking war. Earlier this week Eviatar Banai joined the group for "Night as the Day Does Shine", so fitting for Hanukka and a few minutes of comfort during these cold dark days.
After a nerve-racking few days since the hostage deal was first announced, we finally saw the first group of 13 Israelis released. 10 Thai nationals and 1 national from the Philippines were also released yesterday in a separate deal. We were so anxious about the deal and whether it would go through as planned, I can't even begin to imagine what it is like for the families of the hostages, many of whom don't know yet if their loved ones will be included in the groups being released in the next few days. When I saw the images of the released hostages together with my family we were overjoyed with emotion, though I have to admit that we were hoping to see little Abigail Mor Edan, whose parents were murdered by Hamas militants and just turned 4 yesterday, as well as Shiri Bibas and her two sons, Ariel, 4 years old, and little Kfir, just 10 months old. There are 40 hostages under the age of 18 and 4 were released yesterday. It is not guaranteed that the rest are among the remaining 37 to be released since not all are held by Hamas, the Palestinian Islamic Jihad terror group is said to be holding hostages as well.
Overall 50 women and children will be released, and while we are overjoyed to see Israelis finally back home, our thoughts are with the hundreds who will not be released yet. Yesterday Keren Munder was released with her 9-year-old son Ohad and her mother Ruth Munder, but her father Abraham Munder, 78, was left behind in Gaza, hopefully a temporary situation. I am looking at the faces and names of the hostages, there are so many who have entered my heart after hearing their stories from their loved ones, among them: Noa Armagani, 26, Yarden Bibas, 34, Amiram Cooper, 84, Carmel Gat, 39, Romi Gonen, 23, Yotam Haim, 28, Hersh Goldberg Polin, 23, Guy Illouz, 26, Ofer Kalderon, 53, Oded Lifshitz, 83, Alon Ohel, 22, Chaim Peri, 79, and Mia Schem, 21. No one must be left behind.
I was moved to tears by Koolulam's version of Madonna's Like a Prayer, with the participation of the families of the hostages together with thousands of people from more than 100 locations around the world, in a moving show of support. As Yoni Asher, who was reunited yesterday with his wife Doron and his two children, Raz, 4, and Aviv, 2, said: "I am happy that I got my family back... but I don't celebrate. I won't celebrate until the last of the hostages returns."
And everything remains the same and I'm the same idiot
You lied because it's now after Sukkot
And if you were right, then why do I feel like crying?
This world stinks from New York to Rafah
Wherever you go, you'll always find an enemy
These are homeland birth pangs, and I want to leave
Whether black or white, we'll all die racists
You told me that I'm the best and that I have no competitors
And that we are both in love
You told me that everything is great
And that this is a beautiful time, but it's a time in life
So how come yesterday you didn't pay attention to me
And you didn't care what was happening to me?
And how come? Sometimes you understand
And sometimes you're a bitch, a bit of an unclear girl
Oy! And you make this world stink so much
From New York to Rafah
Wherever you go, you'll always find an enemy
These are homeland birth pangs, and I want to leave
Whether black or white, we'll all die racists
This world stinks from New York to Rafah
Wherever you go, you'll always find an enemy
These are homeland birth pangs... I want to leave
Whether black or white, we'll all die racists
The only music I've been able to listen to since October 7th is the music on Can 88, sensitively curated for a traumatized country. The Israeli songs they're playing these days are usually soothing songs from a distant past, like the beautiful 'Ein Gedi' which I heard while taking the underground light rail home from work, the only public place where I allow myself to use my headphones. Through Can 88's Facebook page I came across Yuval Mendelson's performance of 'New York - Rafah', which he wrote 22 years ago and is sadly still so relevant today. Maybe not as soothing as Yehudit Ravitz, but it was exactly what I needed to hear, for so many reasons.
I checked out Mendelson's page and came across a heartwarming performance of 'Intercom' (this time from 19 years ago), which he performed for displaced residents from the North, evacuated due to the tense situation by the northern border. Ever since the war began, Israeli musicians have been performing for injured massacre survivors, for displaced residents, and for soldiers about to risk their lives. This Friday is Bandcamp Friday and there's been an initiative to give back to Israeli musicians who have been volunteering day after day while facing economic insecurity. If you're into EDM please check out the #BringThemBack compilations, all proceeds will be donated to aid survivors of the Supernova massacre, from mental health care to support in bringing the hostages back home.
Tomorrow will be better ♥
It's raining outside and it's a sad winter for me
A big hat just so they won't see it's me
Young girls who haven't finished high school yet
And there are a hundred thousand people here but I will always be the last
I'd offer you a ride but I don't have a driver's license
And maybe tomorrow will be better you'll see
Tomorrow will be better for me
And if you hear my song then know that it's me
Tomorrow will be okay, you'll see
Tomorrow will be okay for me
And if you're passing by my street, call me on the intercom
And then I'll get up and open the door for you.
A cute blonde is sitting at the bar and pinching her nose
One pinch from her and soon I'm out the door
I thought maybe I'll approach her and we'll start to talk
I'll order a drink for her but until I'll have the courage
The blonde and I will wait
I'd invite her to listen to records
But I live with my parents
So maybe tomorrow will be better you'll see
Tomorrow will be better for me
And if you hear my song then know that it's me
Tomorrow will be okay, you'll see
Tomorrow will be okay for me
And if you're passing by my street, call me on the intercom
Last Saturday I woke up to sirens at around 6:30 in the morning and rushed to the building shelter. Here we go again, I thought, preparing myself for another round of fighting until there was a ceasefire. But it quickly became clear that there would be no ceasefire in the near future. I turned on the news and was shocked by the images of Hamas terrorists in the streets of Sderot and Ofakim - how did they get there? And where was the army?? The news reporters seemed just as shocked and confused as it slowly became clear that Hamas was taking control of several Kibbutzim in the Gaza envelope. I will never forget when the news reporter took a breath and said that there were 22 dead, among them civilians. At the time, a few hours after the attack, the number felt incredibly high and although they said that the number of casualties would rise, I don't think anyone imagined that it would reach 1,300 and still counting. I learned that there were very graphic videos going around of kidnapped soldiers and civilians but I refused to watch them, not sure what was real and what wasn't, it all felt too surreal. When I met my neighbors at the bomb shelter again in the evening, I realized that this was the darkest day in Israel's history and nothing would ever be the same.
The following days were a blur, on Sunday my social media feed was flooded with countless images of murdered or missing kibbutz residents and young people who had attended the Supernova rave turned massacre, their friends and relatives frantically searching for any information. On Monday the obituaries started and haven't stopped, too many of my friends know people who were murdered. In the next few days, the extent of the massacres in the kibbutzim became clear, Be'eri lost 10% of its population, 108 people, including children and infants. Yesterday was spent reading moving accounts of survivors and unexpected heroes. If you are able to access it, please take the time to read Nir Gontarz's account of how his 23-year-old son survived the Supernova rave massacre, and was eventually rescued by retired major-general Yair Golan, just one of many rescues made by Golan last Saturday. In an ideal world Golan, a former Meretz MK, would be in the cabinet making decisions that will affect our country's future, instead of those who are currently in government and barely governing.
I had always found Full Trunk's hit 'As a stone' to be very soothing, a song to help you calm down. I saw the song in a new light after Gal Nisman explained its meaning in an episode of 'One Song' a few years ago. While it's purposely not stated clearly, the lyrics are about Nisman's struggles with PTSD, which he became aware of during a round of rocket attacks by his home in the Gaza envelope. Nisman said that the song was about his healing process from the moment he lost his close friend during a military operation in Gaza. After a lot of work, he was able to go back to being himself, though of course not the same as he was before. Nisman, who still resides in the Gaza envelope, shared on his Instagram a few days ago "...They murdered here, body and soul, an entire community of friends, families and acquaintances, desecrated the women and children, kidnapped, slaughtered and burned everything that breathed, and looted everything they could." Nisman thanked the security forces and the kitot konenut (volunteer defense forces made up of kibbutz residents) who 'are fighting with insane bravery and ferocity against these subhuman monsters'.
Stay safe Gal, and thank you for sharing your beautiful music with us.
Slowly I'm facing all the things I left behind.
All, all I ever tried was just to find a way to ease my mind.
