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