Villanelle to Israel
A poem reflecting on my recent trip to Israel
1 min readMar 24, 2014
A holy man, from God withdrew.
A hole he had — he could not hide it
in any vice. There is virtue
where land and man take each anew
like birthday cake, three times divided.
A holy man from God withdrew
his ode, his song, his sweat stained pew.
By God’s sunshine, a triptych blinded
in any vice. There is virtue
not where with fateful reddened hue
on one hill top, three faiths collided.
A holy man, from God withdrew
what he was owed, his land, his glue.
His house he found, could not be reunited
in any vice. There is virtue
when man takes land and God as sources two,
of patience please. Peace and guidance,
a holy man, from God withdrew.
In any vice, there is virtue.
