Muezzin

Surrounded by the ghosts of Jerusalem-

Are our enemies within the gates?

They surely are.

They pray for blood, they celebrate the arrival of the morning.

A boy without brothers is buried within us as day breaks.

Our son.

There can never be peace, I tell myself.

I hesitate.

The pain must be put aside, and we must go on, until another generation can untangle the knots in the wild, untamed curls of the promised land.