When will the next blow fall?
She holds her breath;
She cries;
But no one must see.
She must seem strong...
Resilient...
Normal.
Battered Israel...
Even between the bombs...
Her pain silently shrieks,
As she waits for the next one.
He sees the tears
Of His beloved estranged,
Assaulted by the world's storms.
He holds out His hands;
He calls softly to her...
His very heart,
His only love,
And He waits for her return.
~Miriam~
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