Starlight

Before domes and walls

Grottos and skyscrapers

There was a promise.

And the miraculous family

Twelve tribes, 12 million people

One and two peoples

The land that was both high and low

And they said it was holy

Ever bloodless,

Of child or goat?

Is there ever one narrative?

The concrete oasis has risen

And nourished the land.

The concrete fence has risen

And desecrated the land.

The holy is in the paradox

High and low

Stone and life

Water and death

And City of Peace

The holy is in the division

That isn’t a division at all.