I am trying to write about Hallel, who loved to dance; a girl with a red beanbag chair,
A girl who slept in late one morn, and was stabbed to death by a boy of seventeen.

We’re meant to mourn, but we also have to live- ignore our souls stripped raw and bare.
Bitter beast, that demands so much, makes us go on, makes our lives suddenly obscene.

If all the clouds could hold us snug, and, just for an hour, let us cry-
How hard it’ll rain- for days and days, from a grief stricken, grey sky.

Alas- the sun today is Master, and I’m baking brownies with the kids- summer treat
Though my heart beat’s a disaster, I’m making pizza now, cuz the kids- they gotta eat.

And this is the way we must break ourselves, and this is how we sin.
This is the way we must make ourselves- because this is how we win.

In memory of 13-year-old Hallel Yaffa Ariel, who was stabbed to death in her sleep earlier this morning, by a 17-year-old Palestinian from a nearby town in Israel. It was a brutal act of terror, one in a long string of bloody and incomprehensible attacks, starting from September of last year. May her soul rest in peace, may her memory be blessed. We will not forget you. Our hearts are broken.

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