The Memory of Sound: October 7th

Most days my head is drowning in words.

But today, I’m haunted by the memory of sound.

Sirens screeching off mountaintops

And rattling through valleys,

The sounds of running,

Explosions overhead,

My son slamming the door after running for his life,

The sound of my own heartbeat in my throat.

Gunshots and wordless screams,

Whimpers and begging for mercy,

The sound of their laughter and delight,

I get lost in that sound.

So many different voices crying,

The crackle of homes on fire,

The music still playing,

A stampede of humans seeking cover,

The cheering when the hostages were brought into Gaza.

The sound of spitting of dead bodies.

The silence of shock.

The silence of wordless glances with my spouse,

The silence of processing what we still don’t understand.

The cacophony of protesters,

The wailing of mothers and fathers in pain,

The threats of our enemies,

The shrieking of those who hate us.

The wretched noise that had filled our brains since that day.

A soundtrack to everyday living in the aftermath.

White noise - fogging brains - clouding our ability to function in a shattered world.

October 7th haunts us through sounds that no human on earth should ever have heard.

And in the silence of a year later, I hear it now as if it was yesterday.

***this painting is called “Kalaniot” and was painted by Elana Vogel Dressler and published in Az Nashir- We Will Sing Again.