Dearly Loved Exile

When my temple came tumbling down on May 9th, my heart became captive to the destruction that ruled my life. I didn’t make a choice that morning to make a change. I didn’t see two paths and choose the one that led to pain. That decision was made for me, and my heart felt as if it was held captive. The time period for the people of Jerusalem was 70 years. The same could have been true in my life. I could still be held in captivity. Seventy years from the day it happened would put me at 95 years old. That is entirely possible. It is my choice.
Periods of captivity are not ideal. Being held captive, you focus on wanting to breathe. Your attention stays directed to survival. These aren’t times of productivity, but of existence. Behind every smile is a tear. The future is non-existent; goals are unimportant, and hope is lost. Captivity becomes consumed by a life of survival.