Summer tales
of Magi.
Full moon’s whiteness
on an unknown path.
A stardust constellation of Pisces
in the western horizon.
A diffused scent.
Holy,
anointing.
Frankincense
purifies ‘always the same’ air.
Pale bellied, frost lichen,
tells a winter tale
of an ancient abbey.
Hewn, pitted stone
holding memory.
Still sheltering the ancestors.
High crosses
sing eternal tones,
encircling the heart.
Soul’s shielding.
Weathered by many moons,
sun’s brightness,
storm’s turbulence
is Jerusalem.
He wept over her,
lamenting paradise lost.
Bab el-Khalil opens.
Hoping in Hebron.
Searching.
Fragile
with dreams of Abrahamic peace.
Rumi tells tales of mystical love with God.
Another year.
Different this time.
© Hilary Oxford Smith
1 January 2013
Image: Spirit-of-Jerusalem
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