I am a curtain
hanging in the window
in the house of God,
blowing in the breeze
on the breath of his word;
my life shimmering in the light of his vision,
one breath, one life.
My body, this wall of Herodian stone,
clinging like a mother's child to Mount Mariah,
timeless and strong,
yet a moment in time,
ridden with bullets and sweat,
tears and triumphs.
I am this land
filled with faith,
burning in the sun
beneath the eternal sky,
hands clasped in prayer,
fists shaking in the air.
I am these archways and ramparts,
these tunnels and alleyways,
and the wild children that run within them,
their voices floating upward like dancing layers of Man,
fighting, like a swimmer, to break through the surface of Lake Kineret,
longing for the first breath of dawn
atop a dream that never sleeps,
and a history that has no end.
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