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In a Puddle They Both Grew Up

by Tamar Heimowitz-Richter, Chairperson




Written by Tamar, Michal's Sister, after Lt. Avi Book was killed in Lebanon on Sept 7, 1997.   Avi was killed on a Sunday.  On the following Saturday night, Michal and Avi were to be engaged.


Printed in Ma'ariv newspaper on Oct 1, 1997 in the special Rosh Hashanah Issue. 

Meir Uziel writes in his column "Pinat Hashlulit"




The man of the year was a warrior in Lebanon.   How beautiful they are, how majestic they are.  "My name is Tamar", Tamar Heimowitz from Kiriat-Ono wrote me in the last days of this year.  "I am the sister of Michal whose boyfriend Avi was killed in Lebanon.  This poem was written by me during the shivah."

How glorious our young and storing generation is, which lives within the love and within the shivah, within the heroism and within youth, all the same time.

Avi, Michals' boyfriend, is Lt. Avi Book from Savyon, who was killed in combat by a direct hit of a mortar shell, while he was passing through the positions in the outpost to check on his soldiers.  Avi and Michal were awaiting their engagement day, which was suppose to take place exactly during the shivah.  I want you not to forget Avi, Michal, Tamar, all our princes and princesses who are around us and whose royalty we don't always see.  This about them and about all their friends in theses upcoming days of Rosh Hashanah, because they made them possible.

And this is what Tamar wrote :


In a puddle they both grew up
A true princess and prince.
The were meant for each other,
This everyone knew,
And at last they realized in themselves.
The loved a great love, pure,
wider than can be describe.
He planned to kneel before her
and make her his wife
For a princess she already was.

The prince was filled with love for
his people and country
He saw his service as a mission
Felt he was given a privilege
The princess stood by him, for she believed
in the right of his way, and saw he was happy.
She showered love on him even when he was in a foreign puddle.

The prince wrote his princess all the time, words of love,
yearning, hope to realize their true love.
The counted the days till Saturday night, when they would declare
in front of all that his princess is his and they would soon wed.
They planned to build a puddle of their own,
clear, full of light and happy.

But on Sunday morning the dream was cut off,
When powers of darkness and doom worked their wickedness.
The prince was plucked to the flowers of above,
joined the army of the sky, and was greeted with open arms
By his friends, the soldiers of heaven.

And his princess remained here,
Shocked and hurting.
For he was so full of life and suddenly left.
She gathers strength from the legacy he left her,
To find good in every little thing.
She nobly greets his friends, and the soldiers under his command,
With a straight back and a consoling smile.

She remains with her prince in her heart, deep inside,
With family, friends, and soldiers around.
The prince was plucked at the age of 22.
His life was interwoven with thousands of other lives.
Each person who knew him will carry his memory forever,
And perhaps in this way, his princess will be comforted.
He will take care of his princess from above,
Will give her strength, encouragement and love.

Rest in peace, prince of us all.

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