The Old Guard

The Old Guard: Acre Prison
Photo: Shai Reef

A man is buried today.

Who is a Jew that the nations love?

One that serves their interests, who sits in their court and bows when he has learned to bow, as they have taught him.
Who loves them, in fear of the truth behind their pearly smiles.
Whose justice is hollow, dead in salted earth.
Who dares not openly prefer a different wine, lest his lords remind him of his name.
Who looks down at shackled feet, and cringes as they scrape against their table.  

A man is buried today.

Who is a Jew that the nations despise?

One that builds his capital, who draws his own line in the stone.
Who bows to no man, and kisses one throne.
Who loves his people, his land, who yearns for her, runs to her, fearless.
Whose justice is Truth, living.
Who drinks deeply from the cup of his father’s vineyard, and smiles widely.
Whose name echoes, proud and strong, to cleave fire from rock.
Who raises his head, unburdened, his freedom a gift, a choice.

A man is buried today, and with him, an age.
To sit before three, and answer to One.
ברוך דיין האמת
Choose life.

 

(Originally written after the passing of Shimon Peres)

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