The Yellow Parking Lot

 (With thanks to my friend Forest Rain Marcia)

A yellow parking place, in a bustling parking lot, symbolically set aside for the hostages—until they all come home.

I don’t think people abroad comprehend how all-consuming is the fact that there are hostages. In every moment, every breath, they are with us.

The liberated hostages have told us about the starvation, torture, and abuse. The lack of air and sun. We saw the physical effects on them when they returned. Some of the effects.

I don’t think people abroad understand that the hostages are a symbol of the horror and abuse we have suffered—and are still suffering—from the Gazan invasion. They are not the totality of our suffering. And rescuing them is not enough.

Even many Israelis don’t fully comprehend that.

We cannot wrap our minds, our hearts, around the monstrous crimes that defiled our loved ones and destroyed the sanctity of our homes. Homes destroyed. Families ripped apart. Soldiers killed and wounded. Sons (and some daughters) crippled for life. Fathers who will never come home. Countless people who saw soul-shattering things...

And the people around the world who deny, justify, and celebrate October 7th.

It is easier not to see the entirety of our pain. To deflect blame. To pretend that the return of the hostages would be enough.

That it is possible to compromise with those who promised to exterminate us.
That Israelis can return to their homes, when their neighbors are the monsters who slaughtered their families.

That it is possible to live with neighbors who we have taught can get anything they want—if they take Jews hostage—and what they want is to destroy the Jewish State.

That there is any solution but removing the threat.