I Will Climb This Mountain with My Hands Wide Open
Camels limping forth with tourists upon their backs
Their hooves rhythmically clodding the shifting dust
The sun sets beyond the desert mountains
It will rise again
but one day it will not
The star
Smiling with a sparkle in her eye
Down at me
Countless lights of the ages
Tossed against the black canvas with a free hand
One day she will wink gaily as she always does
but never again
My feet begin to rise once more
Against my wishes
Up to the surface they go
Covering my body with slime
Splashing my stinging eyes
With the saltiest water again
Water that once was fresh
Now stews with
The bodies
Of billions of dead creatures
Every year
There is less water
These two Syrian boys
No one else is around
Free
One carries a stick
The other a brick
They may be gone tomorrow
Their school gone
The stick and brick may remain
To testify
For a while
My breath
Sucks in the spices
Off the shoulders of a thousand strangers
Deep reds, browns, greens
Faded yellows, blues, oranges
My ears adapting
To the white noises of the marketplace
At the dawn of a Sabbath eve
Little boy with
Kippah striped blue and white, blue, white
Curly dark locks from above
Each of his ears
Waving back and forth
With every bounce of his ball
Runs to his grandpa
Same Kippah
But a little bigger
And a little faded
A decade later
a man moves away from home
Tel Aviv
These ancient stones
Once proud and glistening
Now worn and revered
Support the movement
Of ages of people
The First temple built upon them
is not there anymore
and neither is the Second
There is one now
tiled blue and green with a gold top
but there is a wall next to it
Ready to take over
I drink the wine
I break the bread
I sing a song
Sung by those who passed on ages ago
I read a prayer
Look into the eyes of
the girl in front of me
And I give thanks
to the one God
who is Constant