“For a stone shall cry out from the wall.”
Habakkak 2:11
A divine-forged abode now
blackened stones soaked from
wells of blood and fire,
with walls of witness wailing in the silence
of strewn bodies, young and old death-bonded
as in life, for the land of ubiquitous
memorials again and again and again,
until when?
Of snuffed dreams in a hunting field
where dancing—davening flowers held
sway till singing halted from deep within
surging souls yearning across
man-made borders—barriers to be
breached for war or peace,
to yet prevail with heightened cadence
of Shalom’s invisible, ever surviving promise.
