Post by Darmendar Singh

Tisha B’Av and the 3 Weeks 2026 Upon the heights of Zion, where the morning mist once clung
to marble white as frozen stars where David’s hymns were sung
the pulse of heaven beat in gold, a heart within the stone
where Shekhinah wove Her tapestry upon a sapphire throne
eight hundred years of incense smoke, like prayers climbing high
carved pathways through the firmament to brush the velvet sky But time is but a hungry tide that gnaws the gilded shore
the iron shadows lengthened till the light could breathe no more
the first wall groaned beneath the weight of fire’s crimson tongue
as cherubim in flight withdrew and golden harps unstrung
the Ark, a ghost of cedar wood, dissolved into the haze
leaving but a hollow ache to haunt the coming days Yet, phoenix-like, the stone arose, a second dream refined
to hold the embers of the law within a mourning mind
but iron boots and iron hearts beat down the courtyard floor
and silence fell like mountain snow upon the sanctuary door
the Menorah’s flame, a frantic spark, was swallowed by the dark
as history’s anvil broke the spine of every sacred mark Now, nineteen centuries of dust lie thick upon the dream
yet still the river of the soul flows in a hidden stream
we break the glass beneath the chuppah to recall the shattered gate
we leave a corner of the wall unpainted, challenging our fate
in every prayer, a turning face towards the empty site
where ghosts of priests perform their rites beneath the pale moonlight The liturgy is built of ash, the rituals are scars
we map the absent altar’s glow by navigating stars
it is a surreal architecture, fashioned out of grief
where hope is but a winter sprout that offers no relief
until the veil is parted wide, and ruins turn to gold
and all the scattered whispers of the tribes again unfold The world remembers what was lost, in every breath and tear
a holy ache that defies time, a constant, vivid year
for though the walls are buried deep beneath the Roman rot
the Temple lives within the pulse of those who have not forgot
may silence end, may iron break, may ancient light return
and in the heart of Jerusalem, let the eternal beacon burn Darmendar Singh Copyright of Author Melaka Contemplation For over 800 years, the Holy Temple was the center of Jewish life. It was home to the Ark of the Covenant, the Menorah, the Altar, and other sacred items, and Jews would pilgrimage there three times a year. Although over 1,950 years have passed since its destruction, its memory remains very much alive in the hearts and minds of Jews worldwide. As we mark the Nine Days, let’s explore 11 ways Jews remember the Temple, its rituals, and its destruction throughout the year—until we merit seeing it rebuilt, may it happen today!