Saturday, September 14, 2024

Uri Brauner Kinrot - As if nothing


I've been thinking of this song a lot in the past few weeks, especially as we're nearing the high holidays and the first anniversary since October 7th which is just around the corner and falls this year on the 'terrible days', the time of reflection and soul-searching between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. I went to the hairdresser yesterday and was surprised to hear Stevie Wonder from the speakers. The last time I was there, in early April, there was no music playing and my hairdresser said it would stay that way until all the hostages would return. I don't blame him for putting the music back on, but I still felt a pang in my heart. The last time I went it was a few weeks before Passover and we talked about how hard it was to wish a happy holiday. Indeed, it was a very sad Passover though there was some sense of hope when we read the line 'next year in Jerusalem', surely we would all be together next year, right? Now we're approaching Rosh Hashana and the thought that so many families will be marking the new year without their loved ones is devastating. There's some sense of comfort in the realization that no matter what life moves on and yet, at the same time, it emphasizes just how stuck we all are when we could have been in a different place by now.


The earth is shaking
The light is fading and disappearing
And the trees, and the flowers
As if nothing

Clouds are crying
Waves are crashing like drunks
And the boats and the fish
As if nothing

Also the moon, on her route
Looks from above and is infinitely far away
She will never change her way
Never

My heart is broken
Nothing is the same anymore
My dream is lost
My world is over

Autumn that has not passed
Time seems to have stopped
And life goes on
As if nothing

Also the moon, on her route
Looks from above and is infinitely far away
She will never change her way
Never

My heart is broken
Nothing is the same anymore
My dream is lost
I'm out of air




Sunday, September 1, 2024

Aner - Dove


Heartbroken to hear of the tragic murder of six of our hostages: Hersh Goldberg-Polin, 23, Eden Yerushalmi, 24, Ori Danino, 25, Alex Lobanov, 32, Almog Sarusi, 27, and Carmel Gat, 40. Heartbroken and also furious, especially after hearing that they were killed by Hamas terrorists just a few days ago and that four of them were meant to be released in the first stage of the proposed hostage deal. For almost 11 months we have been told again and again that only force will bring the hostages back when it's clear that the remaining hostages are now more in danger than ever before. Getting them home alive as soon as possible should be the government's top priority but it clearly isn't and the risk of abandoning them again is too high, not just for them and their families but also for us as a society.
I thought of this chilling song when I heard Rachel Goldberg-Polin and Jon Polin's powerful speech at the DNC, when they recounted how Hersh and his best friend Aner went to the Nova music festival and found themselves at the Re'im death shelter where dozens were killed but at least seven were saved thanks to Aner's selfless heroism. Aner's parents wanted him to be remembered not just for his death but also for the life he led and the music he made, which he had dreamed of sharing with the world. After his death, Aner's parents and friends went through over 60 of his songs and chose six of them to release in an introductory E.P. Each one of them showcases his immense talent but this song especially reveals who Aner was and how he saw the world. I can't help but wonder if Hersh ever heard these songs back in Aner's room in Jerusalem. After all he had been through he was so close to getting his life back and Jon and Rachel were so close to finally getting their son back home.


People are being murdered on my street
Frightened
Can't you hear it in my voice?
Trying to concentrate on the half-full glass, shit
Again rockets in the air, going into the room
A stainless steel door I don't feel like I belong
But picking up a weapon won't make me feel that I do
For years I dream of seeing everything here quiet, there's no
Rest in my country for anyone
Kids in the Gaza envelope are sitting in a shelter 
In the West Bank they live in fear
I grew up like this, what's new?
A few more dead
Aren't you exhausted?