Sunday in the Holy City

As I said my Grace
The Church Bells began to ring
As I drank my coffee
The big guns began to sing

As I looked to the tower
Where David lusted for Bathsheeba
The Church Bells rang again
Breaking the fragile peace
Which I had just begun to enjoy
As finally the energy, the joy
had begun to flow

An energy which yesterday
filled me with sadness
as my mind's eye witnessed
the residue of millennia of
bloodshed

This is the Holy City
in whose womb
Unholy things were done

Yesterday I went to wail at the wall
But the wall wailed to me
the stones smoothed by a thousand hands
and a million letters to the Almighty
I went to where they say He died
but found tourists instead of disciples and pilgrims

I felt the energy of the Redeemer
I felt the peace with which
He quietly bore the stripes that healed us

I was shown and given images of a different time
when brothers lived side by side
as together they strived to exist

Last night I felt the energy of He who I called for
The Angel of the Presence answered my prayer
As the Voice said
“Speak!”