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.





Helpless – fading flower.

I feel so heartbroken. I feel so weightened. I feel so helpless and so useless. And there is definitely nothing more than problems I can cause in each step I take on this globe.

I feel I could crush the sky and all mountains around and definitely smash all glass with my prayers and the flames from my heart.

But who will listen to those prayers of mine? Who, now? From that kind of person I am — and such fervent prayers?
“If I do you a favor it might be better for you not to ridicule me in response.”

But that’s what I’m exactly doing.
How then can I approach the heavens and pray for anything else than that I might have something to eat tomorrow?

Yet whatever evil I might seem. I won’t stop inquiring, asking, yelling, crying till I get some response. I will take my example from Abraham oru Father who had famously implored G-d for the evil guys of Sedom.

I will implore and shout and cry and will not stop bothering and going on your nerves, G-d.

Yet, please notice this:
My prayer is not to give a chance to the souls of the wicked.

My prayer is there to ask for mercy for the soul of a righteous.
Is there any hope for mercy for the righteous in this our world of today?!

Believe me. I will hardly need anything more.

Save that little flower before it’s been wiped out from the map of evergreen, heartless grass.

It has already started fading.


Quick note

Sometimes I feel my dreams overwhelming me and enlarging my heart and soul, making me feel greater than life. Me and all my goals I strive for to make true.

And then a moment comes, enough to wipe my dreams away. In a minute. With a tune of some emotional song and some pictures fitting to it. And when I reminisce and realise – my G-d, what was I actually dreaming about?

And ideals vanish, ideas float away, every determination and logic is torn apart and makes these images of hope and wish and desire look so cold and ridiculous, simply too far away and too senseless to be reached.

And there had been a time when I was honestly thinking I might get to that, too.
My mother quoted someone saying “Where there is desire, there are a thousand paths to it, where there is resentment, there are a thousand reasons for it.”

Oh, where to find that boundless desire for all my dreams!…
Oh how to make those dreams and their objects of dreaming not to suffer from my lack of hope sometimes! Not to suffer from time passing by…


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