Ofra Haza: 11th anniversary of death – words

19:40 Israeli time

Along the seashore, there are no waves

There is the world, splitting into broken pieces

At the footbridge

Tell me, how to halt the tears?

Tell me, where is there another world to live in?

(Ofra Haza, “Le’orech haYam”)


...And here we are, back to this certain date. Back to the date, back to the hour. I stand in awe of this hour. What is this awe about?…

 – It’s a song of life I’m singing you, I’m singing it to the world each year anew on this very day and moment. If you look closely, you will see the paradox in that song of mine, but it’s true, it’s sincere. To be honest – it’s a song of lament over a life which you have literally left behind you. You, Ofra Haza, Jewish girl, singer, wife, woman – you went away and wherever you must be now, it is surely the right place for you to be in. That’s how it is with people who leave us. It had been your path to follow, no matter how tragic and sad it had looked like for us, friendly observers from aside.

It’s another question I’m asking. What is it that you have left past you, left for us to live with!?

My question goes further.

What is this that you have brought into the world, this spiritual child of yours you gave life to by the means of your mere existence? How did you manage to impress the minds of thousands? A tiny woman, exercising her powers like instruments, knowing they would find the right material to work on. Is it your intuition in music, your appearance and attitude towards the world and those who inhabit it?

What is it that still makes you be felt so close in people’s hearts? That the star which has stopped shining more than a decade ago, with its light it still reaches eyes and ears?

I sound too lofty; I can’t refrain from my metaphors.

But my question goes deeper.

What is it that makes me want to internalize every bit and piece of you, from toe to hair, from thought to sound?

What force does make me want to implant that seed of life you’d spread – in the souls of others?

“Those who had sowed with tears

Will harvest with joy” (Psalm 126)

Perhaps those were us who had sown the seeds I mean. Devouring eagerly with a slight trace of obsession each of your moves, words and deeds, trying hard to be surrounded by this special aura which would smell like an exquisite perfume. It would provide us with the opportunity to steal away from time to time into that “other world” which you speak of in “Along the seashore”.

Are you a seed, Ofra? Then today you must be a forgotten one, having endured famine and drought. And still, you haven’t vanished. You’re there, in that cracky soil of our hearts.

Perhaps you are also a key, the key to “this other world which is the gate to other borders”, as you’ve timelessly stated at your performance at Montreux.

Seeds, keys, forces. I struggle to understand and live up to my own images, to the best of my ability.

All the power stems from the Creator.





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