Mystical Morn

Jerusalem
I sing to you

A song of longing
A song of lament
A song of ancestors
yet to be born

A song of crucifixions
Still being carried out
in your holy
name.

Jerusalem
I sing to you of justice
gone awry–

Of sacred soil so sacrosanct
crystallized into coarse,
unleavened
bread that crumbles and
decays
without a breath of fresher
days

O child of place
O place of fair face
Oh song of despair
for a place that never was as
dreams say
you may
have been
before the books were born.

Abraham and David.
Saul and Mohamed too.
Jesus –

Did you truly
walk this sacred soil
long spoiled
by unneeded sacrifices of
blood (and men)?

Jerusalem:
I long for you.

The home
I have yet to find.

The mystical morn
yet to be born.

copyright Skye Stephenson 2015

 

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