My Israel in a nutshell. This poem could go on forever but I had to cut it so it wouldnt become annoying.


 She is the desolate hilltop

She is the dusty road leading to waterfalls

She is the miniature paradise

She is the beggars offering red string

She is the knee highs and Yarmulkas

She is the soldiers with machine guns

She is the wandering souls

She is the crowded hot buses

She is the rude and aggressive merchants

She is the long lines before metal detectors

She is our history and source

She is our mother earth

Providing raw love

She is my strength, my dream, my passion

She is my soul

 She is mine

The End

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