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And One War Ends

                      Click here to learn more about Consequence Forum and/or register for the workshop.

                                                               

                                                               

 

 

One moment there had been nothing but darkness; next moment a thousand, thousand points of light leapt out -- single stars, constellations, and planets, brighter and bigger than any in our world.

 

-C. S. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew

 

 

On Sunday, the Sunday before the inauguration and/or coronation as some are calling it, I went for a  walk before the snow storm with my friend Helene, my Covid walking partner. We still meet once a week to walk and talk often picking up neighbors along the way. The pace varies depending on fitness and age, but we accommodate each other. When I returned home my husband mentioned that he had a plan to talk to his cousin in Ashkelon, on the border with Gaza. Three hostages and Palestinian prisoners were about to be released. The sensation of hope ascending in Israel and in the Gaza Strip where there has been so much death and so much suffering was good news, or good enough news on this snowy Monday morning as I write in the safe, quiet enclave where I live.

 

Before layering up to dig out our car, I checked my email only to find a confession in the form of a poem from a soldier I know. I had contacted him about the four-week "witness to history" writing workshop for Consequence Forum I'll be teaching beginning February 17. The soldier wishes to remain anonymous but has given me permission to publish his work here:

 

Confessions of a Soldier

 

If you are reading this it is because I may be dead

And if I am dead I can freely confess my sins:

 

They were cowering on the floor when I shot them

I wish I had died then too

I wish I had said: I am one with you

or

Walk with me out of  this hellscape

into the future

 

But I was afraid, I was a coward

Shooting shooting shooting

A panicked obedience

 

Never did I imagine myself in this place

A bombed-out city of rubble, rotting flesh, lacerated bones

 

In prayers for the dead

Rabbis, Priests and Imans

say

May there be peace

and reconciliation

Amen

 

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