This is where the war ends.
It begins here.
It begins in a city which practices what Jerusalem preaches
And what Jerusalem, with its vicious holy men, betrays:
in the faces of thousands of people marching in the street
in Tel Aviv-Jaffa.
in the face of a little girl dancing on the shoulders of her father to music played on a pensive oud and a goblet drum
and to music played on a jacked electric guitar and a trombone
"God doesn't make mistakes."
It was supposed to rain.
No one was likely to show up.
My foot was broken.
From the square where Yitzhak Rabin sang publicly for the first time, and was then killed,
What they began to chant
Jews and Arabs refuse to be enemies
But it was an expression of what is right with it.
My 15-year old daughter answers without hesitation. "Has v'shalom." Heaven Forbid.
Who treat land as sacred, and people not theirs, as dirt:
My war with you is over.
My enemy today is the word Never.
Not the Jerusalem of murderous faith and a vengeful God
But in a city which faces God because it faces the world.
"This is a taste of the World to Come," my wife says, the crowd swaying to music, other peoples and their own.
"This country is too young to die.
I declare the war is over."
Next year in Tel Aviv-Jaffa.
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