What's Left Behind Poem by Eli Spivakovsky

Stars are scissored out of the sky and replaced by human jewelery
A bridge in Israel is filled with firecracker smoke.
Another bridge is filled with grafitti and I want to add some initials,
but you stop me and I'm glad, but I want so much to leave behind something, I'm leaving so much when I descend looking out of the plane window and I see the peace everyone wants.
Dreaming in an airplane, clouds rush by my mind, REM with every surge. My soul finds its way back, and ascends to Jerusalem, an axis is made and I travel from one point to the other.

I think of all the places I've been to. Do they bear testament to my visitation?
Just the most minute difference in the air. Do, at least, the olive trees in Jerusalem I passed feel less photosynthesised?
And what about us? Have my fingertips left the smallest indentation on your skin?
I have been searching for you all my life. Children look for love too.
Are you the same love I had as a child, just super-imposed with your heart on it?
I can't help but want to be remembered somehow not just as the champion of your flesh, but as someone who broke through the day.