Saturday morning. My soldiers were called to the shock zone near Kibbutz Hareda and started fighting the forces that managed to occupy it. At the same time, there were direct falls of terrible thoughts launched from the base of evil, and missiles of terror and documentation of horrors landed on the horrified soul. Sometimes the Iron Dome of the heart managed to intercept them, and sometimes they were burned into the memory, never erased. In such a case, there are casualties and destruction in the capital of the heart, the city of fear and panic.
They want her. They know that if they conquer it, they will succeed in paralyzing us from within. The soldiers of the head know that this is a battle for home, and that we must not feel that we are not safe here.
By noon, companies of grief had been recruited from my heart – the unimaginable number of murdered and kidnapped who are in the hands of the cruel. There is a video I opened that destroyed entire areas of my soul, there are soldiers in me whose fate I still don't know, there is terrible uncertainty in the battle going on in my head.
This is an emergency, and as such, I decided to specifically appoint my grandfather to be my head's defense minister. He's 84 years old, and he's all that's beautiful about this country. He built it, fought in wars, a public figure who left a social legacy in a colony of which a friend was a member. A born leader.
I asked him what to do, he didn't answer, just took his harmonica and played: "Ellie, Ellie, that will never end." We will not let them destroy us. We have whole companies of faith in the rare society that we are and in our army.
Brought to print: Maya Cohen
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