no sunlight, no healing

out here in the promised land,

ten clay-baked goloms are bathed

in koshered Dead Sea mud,

while Nazareth weddings blast saxophones and accordions just up the road,

and hundreds hora dancers from Tzfat 

while toasting the three tribes

wave to their dizzy Mediterranean cousins in Haifa 

hustling Haggadahs on Shakedown Ramallah Rumla Reza Street

out here in the promised land

while holy Jerusalem just nods to the music within her maternal knowing,

Mt. Bental’s brilliant sparks of light effervesce the night sky,

opalescing enlightened lemon and date trees,

while Be’er Sheva’s golden desert doors

and Tel Aviv’s hip hoppers down on Contemporary Road

harvest and garland yelloworange buttercups and purple pansies,

waving bouquets up and back down these consecrated roads,

where yarmulked children hopscotch way past midnight

innocently dressed in pigtails and peyus,

their paisley sneakers swinging,

where bees become birds

become cherry trees

become exquisite, tender offerings

sharing salutary bonds etched in stone:

“all this is bestowed upon my people…

you have been granted

the tears and the laughter of four thousand years,

endless sunlight to heal,

King Solomon’s blue stones and shekels,

hummus and olives

with dates dipped in tahini

and a nation of honey dripping from pregnant rosebuds,

all this to drink from

chipped austere cups brimming with cool sweet water”

Be'er Sheva, Israel

6/23/2019