Poetry
Poetry
dear friend,
éthe dream of one state is,
unfortunately, quite unrealistic.
both peoples reject it.
each wants his state, his flag.
perhaps in 50, 100 years,
after a phase of two states.
all the besté
to weary wanderer
i offer precept to console despair.
when feet are sore and blistered
from long search for salvation,
when the soul is betrayed and bitter,
the only solace is to lift the eyes
to glimpse once again faint glow
far ahead of the precious promise.
even moses, face shining with
reflection of the light revealed,
even he had to shout himself hoarse
to remind faithless wanderers
of the glory of distant destination.
so prophets too must calculate
that all too human indolence
will incline weary feet to adopt each
stop for shelter as substitute for home.
yes of course the horned combatants
proclaim birthright to sacred patrimony
and demand to wave colored rags
and shout competing dialects
and celebrate ancient rituals.
it is always them who demand
that each hard fought detour of
arduous passage to redemption
be defended fiercely as final destiny.
but who among them celebrates
the cold stare of snipers as they aim
between the eyes of children?
don’t give the faithless voices credence.
the confined geography of this contest
is not large enough to contain yet more
oppression of the people of the land.
conscience dictates that the disparate tribes
be gathered to community which bestows
the gift, no, the right, of equal justice
upon all the children of abraham.
yes of course many followers object,
but surely we are more than the basest
of reflexes conditioned, branded within
theirs theirs theirs, and,
look to heaven, even yours.
to compromise with infamy is sad fate.
only holy fools are brave enough
to squawk as wanderers stumble down
descending spiral of spiritual malaise.
but who among them claims credit
for the cold stare of snipers as they aim
between the eyes of children?
the weary hunger for inspiration
to remind them their souls once were rich.
the discouraged thirst for fuller truth
to justify their trial by hardship and despair.
so why bother to count the number of feet
marching behind the banner of democracy?
it is enough to know that many will follow
those brave zealots who first are roused
the antipodes of fury who battle for jerusalem
are not, as you suggest, harsh evidence
that both peoples reject a common fate,
but rather that the vocal and the violent
have great talent for dominating our view.
the silent majority of both tribes crave
nothing more perverse than normalcy.
don’t doubt their capacity, even if tardy,
to comprehend that unity in justice
is the only formula for peace capable
to transmute mundane dreams to reality.
but who among them will atone
for the cold stare of snipers as they aim
between the eyes of children?
haven’t the generals proven beyond doubt
the only client state worthy of unholy sanction
will be divided cantons of abject shame?
after all else is said and negotiated and done,
what else could possibly be the rationale
of the tightening noose of bypass roads
and the malignant facts infecting the hills
and the daily rehearsals of foul repression,
except to prepare for the unilateral separation
of the chosen from the damned?
when the bearers of arms impose
their new improved millennial apartheid
to violate yet another fragile spring,
when you stumble amidst the stony fields
of blood red poppies, yours and theirs,
remember to lift your eyes above the strife
to draw strength and comfort
from the promise of a better land
still shining somewhere ahead.
take heart, it’s not that far distant.
the journey will be complete when
the light of justice blinds enough logic.
but who among them could forget
the cold stare of snipers as they aim
between the eyes of children?
weary leader of the wanderers
