I wrote this on the flight back from Israel on Thanksgiving day:

Deeper, deeper we delve
Into nuances and naves
Into cisterns and caves
Constantly uncovering what’s been there for years
To those with eyes to see and ears to hear
To those pilgrims with open hands and laces tied

Ready to tramp over parabolic hillsides
Day after day sun rising with surprises
Faces no longer foreign in the place he was born
No longer numbers but names amongst the war-torn

Phrases, places, spaces now leaping with life
Like breath upon dry bones
Like the rolling back of tombstones
Like new shoots sprouting forth from ancient roots

Rocked to and fro by the rhythm of waves
By calls to prayer and spontaneous praise
By shoreline stories and sailors songs
By rains upon ruins and speaking in tongues

Alas, it is time to climb down from Tabor
To be instruments of peace in our world once more
To prepare for turkeys, tables and trading toda’s
Not far from the House of Bread where he lay his head
Prepare him room all, both here and abroad



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