יום הזכרון

I remember the sirens for Yom Hasho’a and Yom Hazikaron.

In the Valley of the Aboriginal Ghosts, Southern Jerusalem, it looked like the Land itself had come to a halt. The surrounding hills — Talpiyot to the east, Gilo to the south, and Qatamon to the northwest — sounded like they were screaming. The sound of each siren echoed over the next one, until all of Jerusalem — all of Israel — maybe even the entire world — was screaming, screeching and wailing, not for a wall but for human beings. For death in the struggle for life.

As if the Refa’im themselves were dragging closed the rusty and straining gates of She’ol, to stem the downwards flow of dead. There's no more room down there in the deeps.

Two years ago, President Moshe Katsav said:

...Jewish History and the annals of Zionism have taught us that the Land is acquired through suffering. Judea fell in blood and fire and has arisen again in blood and fire. The soil of our land is saturated with the blood of those who fell...

...On this day we are all one large family. In all our hearts a string trembles upon seeing the sorrow enveloping the bereaved families. We bow our heads before the families of the casualties of the Israel Defense Force and the security forces - the Jews, Druze, Bedouin, Circassians, Muslims and Christians who all share in the great pain, the pain of loss...

...May the memory of the heroes be blessed...