The sun was cutting peep holes in the gray clouds of
Thursday morning.
A khaki vehicle jigged carelessly down the path; lurching
upwards every so often in
what felt like a deliberate attempt to bash its occupants to
peace.
Two youth were jigging opposite each other. To the south
bounced a redhead, his long curly side burns swinging east
and west. On the left a boy approaching manhood, a turn
T-shirt hiding his sharp tan body.
The heads of the armed boys in the back were all bobbing up
and down, in their dreams a home, moms cooking and perhaps a
girl.
"Idiot..." hissed the red. his faint blue eyes were begging
a response. "Idiot!" He glared at the cousin facing him.
The tan drew his close shaven head from his palms. "I hate
you!" He whispered back , "You, and all your family, may you
rot in hell." His chest rose, daring a fight.
"We'll be in line behind your own." The blue eyes squinted.
"Yours with our prime-minister's, the filth."
"Ha, he lied to you," Sniggered the shaved, mouth widening
with mock "Not an honest one in the whole. And now it is
finally time for men to return to their land, for the devil
to retreat."
"Return to their land?" He carefully eyed the soldiers on
his sides.
"To our land."
"It is not..."
"It is-"
"Not! Elohim has made it ours. It is stated in the
Bible."
"It is stated in our blood."
"The land of milk and honey..."
"That is in my grandpas childhood. The house, the village.
Yours from Poland."
"From Germany, they tried to kill them there."
Muttering "They should have-"
"What?"
"Nothing," the tan eyed his chains, and then his rivals
"Why are you here?"
"I fight for my land."
"For mine, it is not yours. You thieves. It is not over
yet, we will get it back."
"We will keep." He gestured towards the sleeping.
"Some army,"
"That fought off yours!"
"That gives us back some soil..."
"Ours! to build a wall, to keep you out."
"And keeps you from what you claim is yours. The wall is
but a line that Allah will destroy, and our feet will
trample."
"The wall will stand."
"And keep you from your home?"
"And keep you from our back."
"You watch it. You watch the house you are defending,
tomorrow it is ours."
"Can not, can not. can not! It is my childhood, the swing,
the almond, the hill, the moon..."
"Our home will be again, and you will die, and root to
hell."
"I hate you." Whispered the curls.
"Idiot" Hissed the tan.