She is like a mother and lover at once to me.
Once you encounter her, she never gets out of your skin.
You hold up even a postcard at sunset before her, and squint, and it melts
into view before You.
I missed you in my core. My bones have been magnetized towards you
since we met long ago, and perhaps forever.
I missed you pronouncing my inner name though.
The way you whisper is loud in me. Back then,
I used to wander for days with no destination
but to know you better. Slept on rooftops, parks
wherever you were. Lived in hostels, left you my best marbles, and never wanted to leave. I had to, to finish my story. Sorry. Parts of me surely
regret ever having left. Especially this evening as you say yes
to me again.
I wanted to know each veil of you. I never came close.
I was inadequate to behold you fully. I think i got
to maybe 13 back then, i know there must be at least 613. but i imagine more,
as the prayers continue tonight. Our loud attempts to reach upwards
through you.
I slept everywhere all these years,
but always with you. When together I worked in your markets,
in whitestone alleyways, not knowing each stone well then. I taught your children my
language, and tried to love them into place. But…
Even when away, i was always sleeping
with you. All the other nations i fell in love with
paled in your light. What was hovering inside you
never wavered in me.
Each city i lived in was a tent in your hair. A chime
hanging on you ears… But,
none of them compared, Love.
And just so you know
i wasn’t interested in many others
It was always you I saw in everything Jerusalem.
The rest was comparison. You have been my pattern.
To return and hear men singing in chants and prayers and readings tonight- each
evening, to me is an obvious attempt at loving you, brings joy to me. Just that we
try to express what you contain. Yet…
We fail to express you well. We stutter, even in loving the nations.
Yet, that we try, somehow, still must bless you.
You are the endless perfume on all our skins
I don’t worship places, but of these two Jerusalem’s you are!
I pick you both to know. And if I die into you, or somehow inside of you,
that you know you are seen loved adored,
would be enough for me.
And it’s just so good to see you again friend.
Friendship has no distance. I held you inside
as long as i remember now. I sheltered myself
in your cacophonous evening song, until
I knew my name. And once i did
i decided to return and say thanks.
So henini, here i am again, offering what i have left of my love
to you, Jerusalem—you fragrant carousel of all being.
You exotic grounded lover and namer of us all. You heart of the Father of us all.
You home.
It is like when you have been married a long time on earth
and meet that person in heaven-that look you exchange of knowing
is what i feel most towards you tonight, Jerusalem.
So, here’s my postcard of you
I hope it melts into you
and brings you glory.
I always wanted to be a postcard
sent from all nations
to you, maybe with a funky font
which brought you unexpected joy;
and together we may still become incense
at midnight, wafting upwards as a pleasant
fragrance to Father. With an unseen stamp
which reads Yes and Peace
in the ink of Love.
And I know you are just a city (and i love that part too!)
and yet you’re more. And we all know it.