A nation of soldiers (for Yom HaZikaron)

Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers
Sons and daughters, nephews too
Nieces, spouses, friends and others
Every chayal fights for you
For a place for every Jew
And at every chayal’s grave
Prayers for sacrifice he gave
Parents weeping for their sons
Fighting for our lives with guns
A state at war since it was born
Children from their parents torn
Widows weeping, now forlorn
Hopes for children from them shorn
Chayalot at Western Wall
Praying ‘twixt their nation’s call
Hair tied back,
in uniform’s pants, but no one tries to hold them back
as they approach with quiet chants
Rifle slung atop her shoulder
Face upon a sacred boulder
Praying for a captured friend
G-d in heaven, when will it end?

Israel's Fallen Heroes - One Personal Story

A correction, of sorts: My apologies to those who really speak Hebrew--I realized, after the fact, that I wrote this poem with the word "chayal" accented on the wrong syllable. Sorry. My heart's in the right place, but I guess that's what happens when my heart's in the east, but I'm in the west.