ETERNAL "SLEEPING PLACE"

Back entrance to Zomet Morasha cemetery/ Entrance to Herzlya cemetery

The term 'cemetery' has its origin in a greek word meaning 'sleeping place'. Sleeping indeed. Eternal sleep. Everlasting peace.

Once a year, prior to the jewish High Holidays I go to two cemeteries ( both municipally owned), to be at the graves of my dear ones, light a candle, pray, weep, ask forgiveness, wash the tombstones.

One cemetery is "Zomet Morasha" where my parents are burried. It belongs to Ramat-Hasharon city and is near the Morasha highway junction .I usually take the short way from the junction and enter cemetery from its back, through an opening in the wired fence, having to handle some bushes. There used to be citrus groves there.

The other cemetery , where my brother and his child are burried, is located on the edge of a respectable neighbourhood in the city of Herzlya. From the center of the city , near the Post Office, I enter a very long street with nice buildings and houses on both its sides. After some twenty minutes of walking one reaches the area of the cemetery.

There's a small public garden and children's playground nearby, and an elementary school adjacent to , and separated by a tall fence, from the childen's lot in the cemetery. The existence of this school and of the children's playground, not far from my nephew's little grave, stirs a lot of pain in me.

עולה לקברי יקירי

פעם בשנה לפני החגים

ראש השנה ויום הכיפורים

אני פוקדת את הקברים

של יקירי, בשני בתי עלמין

הורי נחים בצומת מורשה

אחי ובנו הקט - בהרצליה

אני עושה דרך ארוכה ברגל

לחוש את מלוא עוצמת האבל

הטכס חוזר על עצמו מדי שנה

שוטפת מצבות, נרות מדליקה

מתפללת, מתייסרת, בוכה

ובעיקר מבקשת סליחה ומחילה

עם השנים, זה נהיה כבד

אבל באותה מידה גם מחזק

נותן כוח לעוד ועוד שנה

אני מחוייבת, זאת המשפחה.

"Oif Cheivarus"

Inainte de Rosh Hashana, Anul Nou

Ma duc la mormintele parintilor

La cimitirul din Zomet Morasha

Intre Ramat Hasharon si Petach Tikva

In ajun de Yom Kipur, Zi grea

Ma duc la cimitirul din Herzlya

La mormantul lui Hersh, fratele meu

Si la cel al lui Shai, copilul sau

In fiecare an, acelasi ritual

Aprind lumanari, citesc un psalm

Ma rog, ma vaiet, plang, vorbesc

Cer iertare de la ai mei ce nu-i zaresc

Parcurg drum lung pe jos

Spal monumentul ,viguros

Nu caut de loc sa-mi fie usor

Caci e zi de doliu si de dor.