The Churches of Zagreb: A Poem
Abrahamic Faiths in Croatia’s Capital
At the cemetery in Mirogoj
You will find the Star of David neatly
Woven into the decorative steel
It creeps behind the wild ivy that dresses the walls
And shines brightly beside the rusting crosses
The Meštrović Pavilion was converted
From a quiet place to store elite brushstrokes
To a place of worship in the thick of World War II
And though its insides have been stripped and minarets removed
Today, the locals still warmly refer to it as ‘The Mosque’
But the churches
The churches of Zagreb are remembered by the blood
Rods of hot iron in a crown
Beheadings in St. Marks square
Fire at the stake of women known as witches
The churches are never remembered
As fondly
When we judge those
Who are different than us
We choose to grind our mirrors
Into dust
Blow them
And hope they convert the air
From oxygen to Holy Water
Hope
That the earth will breathe one breath
One crude, self-righteous, angry breath
Thirsty, unsure why things never change
