I set foot in the land where milk and honey were promised
and I strolled in the shadow of high-tech Babel towers.
Starry flags waved in the wind eerily;
a harbinger of impending massacre.
The specter of me
mirrored in the eyes of a soldier
when I realized
there’s no Messianic peace in sight
at the moment.
Fossilized wails were spiraling upwards
from desperate throats by the temple’s vestiges,
the believers’ ghosts were lurking by the mineral slabs
on the Mount of Olives…
I vainly sought for peace, for love, for a flower.
I went as far as kneeling and sealing a pact with an ancient prophet.
In the fear’s grip I nearly bartered my breath with immortality
that was begged… or purchased
forehead to the wall.
