אור

אור (Or) is 7. In English her name means "light" as in "And God said, 'let there be light.' "

Or lives in an impoverished neighborhood in Kiryat Shmona in the north of Israel. Her father, Shimon, has served in the Israeli Army during three major military conflicts. This past summer their house was hit by a Hizballah-fired Katushya rocket.

I was just in Kiryat Shmona on a community service trip with Hillel. My task was to paint Or's temporary apartment - the one they live in while their actual apartment is being rebuilt. Walking into this place you feel as if they just picked up all their shit from the Katushya-smashed place and dumped it on the floor of the new apartment. Makes for some awkward painting.

I got the chance to speak to Or when she was outside of that shithole. She likes to play around the neighborhood with her friends Binyamin and Leon. She's a smart girl - incredibly articulate for seven.

Spending time with the family as I paint their house, the force of the metaphor struck me. I was literally whitewashing over huge underlying problems. This family was poor before the Katushya hit. Shimon was unemployed before the Katushya hit. They were surviving on free meals from Chabad before the Katushya hit. Or hadn't been to school in nearly two years before the Katushya hit.

But look at that smile!


For some reason I like the juxtaposition of this picture with Allen Ginsberg's "Song."

Song (Allen Ginsberg)

The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction
the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.
Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
burning with purity--
for the burden of life
is love,
but we carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.
No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love--
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
--cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:
the weight is too heavy
--must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.
The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye--
yes, yes,
that's what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.