poem by Ellen Mass, The Old City

  

The Old City: from 1968- 2023

                                                            by Ellen Mass

The donkey clik claks on Middle Eastern cobblestone

carrying workman’s tools, belongings

down spice-filled passages.  I meander until lost

among an ancient culture divided from

my semitic humanity, here in old city of Jerusalem

I once knew well,

in route to my  Arab Armenian family who welcomed me with

Mediterranean mint dishes, in closeness with suppressed awareness

of centuries of west hostilities

among Aramaic speaking Jews,  Muslim Arabic language

savoring tiny stone stalls, red green and black Palestinian kafias

ambling passionate with Lover to eat pigeon and roasted bulgur -

deep within old dark dampened City walls from Roman times,

stands of fresh kill meats, bright colored souvenirs

 but eager maalik faces for dirham deals and few tourists.

Qasid secrets, a skilled Eastern haggle,

my western bargain custom shunned.

Muslims disdain this delighted face:

foreigner, Anglo-colonial --

no friend to Arab Islamists and Christians.

Explosive Israeli lid kept tight and simmering

after victory of eye-patched commander --

century’s anger held firm by soldiers till October 7,

when resounding  shock waves heard around the globe

piled rubble stories high - childrens’ cries from severed lives

before any sweet laugh could be heard.

 Life brutally mangled

 unfelt by we of daily city bustle, mindless 

 of the small child’s exact demise.

We paid to execute the innocents

 over and over, you and me

with ever greater munitions and proxy vengence.

Young naive girl,

I planted trees over the Arab villages with mom’s wish,

hiding our sins under B’nai Brith stories of magic lands.

Now safe and sound around me, I hear their wails,

see the ancient Souks while holding my Goldsmith lover

crafting my lost 24 k hair barrett - Al-abjadiyah flowing letters

shining with brilliant culture,

I visit the old city again in my dreams

awakened by powerful remorseful blasts

as Palestinian families are exterminated,

as were the Jews,

greeting their merciful Allah Akbar.

 We can remember them all in Muqawama*

                                                                                 11-8-23

*resistence