Jerusalem

In a war torn land at the center of the Middle East, Israel fought for their right to exist. Jews from around the world, after World War I, emigrated to this tiny portion of the world called Palestine. The native Jewish inhabitants of this area identified themselves as Palestinians before the inception of the State of Israel. It was not until the Palestinian Liberation Organization or PLO that the native Arabs began calling themselves Palestinians. Jews have been calling Palestine home for 5,000 years -- it's hard to "occupy" a region that was promised by God to his chosen people...

Yehuda Amichai 1924-2000

Born in Wurzberg, Germany and emigrated to Jerusalem in 1936 at the age of 12, Amichai began writing poetry based upon what he has witnessed in his new homeland. Amichai uses a short lyrical format that neither preeches nor condones hate or violence. His literary works are worth the search and definitely worth the time to read and study...enjoy.

If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem

If I forget thee, Jerusalem, then let my right be forgotten.

Let my right be forgotten, and my left remember. Let my left remember, and your right close.

And your mouth open near the gate.

I shall remember Jerusalem

And forget the forest--my love will remember, will open her hair, will close my window,

will forget my right, will forget my left.

If the west wind does not come I'll never forgive the walls, or the seas, or myself.

Should my right forget, my left shall forgive.

I shall forget all water.

I shall forget my mother.

If I forget thee, Jerusalem,

Let my blood be forgotten.

I shall touch your forehead, forget my own, my voice change for the second and last time to the most terrible of voices--or silence.

Jerusalem

On a roof in the Old City

laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight; the white sheet of a woman who is my enemy, the towel of a man who is my enemy, to wipe off the sweat of his brow.

In the sky of the Old City a kite.

At the other end of the string, a child I can't see because of the wall.

We have put up many flags,

They have put up many flags,

To make us think that they're happy,

To make them think that we're happy.

An Arab Shepherd Is Searching for His Goat on Mount Zion

An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion and on the opposite mountain I am searching for my little boy.

An Arab shepherd and a Jewish father both in their temporary failure.

Our voices meet above the Sultan's Pool in the valley between us. Neither of us wants the child or the goat to get caught in the wheels of the terrible Had Gadya machine.

Afterward we found them among the bushes and our voices came back inside us, laughing and crying.

Searching for a goat or a son has always been the beginning of a new religion in these mountains.