There is a secret place in my memory. It is a trench filled with unspoken words, potential longings, unlived laughter, and unborn children. It is an abyss of unclaimed dreams. It cannot be found in any of the extremities of the earth – not Bali, or Corcovado, or the Dead Sea. It knows no language- no Sanskrit or Hebrew or Aramaic here. There are no bombs here. No stories of crusades, imperial powers, burning synagogues or fleeting soldiers. There are no known symbols or missing bodies. It is a silence that knows no name. It reclaims a sunrise that shines stronger than gold and claims no possessions.

Journal Comments