Army (for my mother)

http://www.alansondheim.org/army.jpg

(Eyes wide closed) So this photograph was probably taken in the
summer of 1960, after graduating highschool and on the way to
Brown University in the fall; for the summer, I went to Israel
for two months on a tour of sorts, not entirely, I think this is
from then, Israel was 12 years old, that's all, formed out of
the ashes tending towards mor ashes, more war and paranoia on
all sides kibbutzim seemed the way to go and on and on and on,
and we went around the country, from Eilat to far north, I think
that's when Syria shot at our boat on the Galil but too far
away, nothing happened, but that was the story of the day,
soommething happened but nothing happened. So there was a lot of
military gear on the market, bought this shirt, and I look half
like an altar boy and half like an altered boy. So that was
that. On the way back I wore an Isareli general's outfit that I
bought, but enough of that. Now I look with horror at this
image, twisted as well, I seem innocent, certainly would never
never have given in to the violence against Palestine today, and
that's why this is so twisted for me, what was I thinking but a
sense of loose affiliation, what happened though even then and
ovder the years, inconceivable! Palestine today I think is
Warsaw then, there were German youths coming to Israel, again 12
years after, to try to understand what had happened in the
Holcaust; they seemed frightened but determined, tragic, now it
is our turn, this emblem of something that today and even then I
assume now, so inconceivablye (I keep using that word0 twisted,
the tragedy violating every body every belief and yet neti neti
not this not that, not here, it's not here, and we can protest
and Hsrael is ruled by a horror on top of all the other horrors,
this horror with bombs and guns, and I would have thought,
inconeivable. The image twists me around, if I had known I would
have fld the country never to return (I did return twice), I
would have kept going elsewhere. This sounds incredibly
superficial, but living it as it were, it wasn't, couldn't have
been, is not now. As if our fingers, hands, arms are cut off, we
can do nothing, we are there, protest poprest protest write
wtrite write and the inuman violence goes on and on, Israel in
the charge of a madman, but not one, but others, a whole party
of them, more on the West Bank, a human plague of violence, and
I can hardly, honestly, look at this photograph at this point,
the now of it burned in rubbled, burned in the bombings, an
uneasy allegory of Auschwitz and other mass killings, mass
graves everywhere in the world. What on earth, literally on
earth, this earth, all we have, what are we up to? When will
this end? What have all of us done, what do humans do, what do
mammals do, what happened to the sun? the moon? the stars? the
enormity of the universe's beginning? Gods drowned in the
Jordan, I tried to believe then, in that time, that twist, (and
the usual question, what is there to day, and what is to be
done, and where are we in this world, where are any of us,
where? why? when? "And if not now, when?" -

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