POST #254 – HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Tiny Israel (seen marked in red on the map below), the only democracy in the Middle East, is 74 today.

I wrote this poem, The Wailing Wall, on my very first visit to the Western Wall in Jerusalem. 

The Wailing Wall

A wall like any other wall

you might say.

Way above us in the cracks

the doves of peace are sleeping.

Look down and you will see

the scraps of paper,

messages left for God.

For this is no ordinary wall

and these are no ordinary people.

When you put your face

close to the wall,

it is warm

and smells of all those

who have stood here before

and done as you are doing.

For this is no ordinary wall

and these are no ordinary people.

By my side

a woman sobs and prays,

caressing the wall with her hands

like someone blind.

I stand a little lost.

How do you pray

if you’ve never prayed before?

The air is sweet

and scented and warm

and filled with the sound

of singing and sobbing.

Suddenly

I find myself crying.

For this is no ordinary wall

and these are no ordinary people.

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

The Wailing Wall

It’s been an exciting – and challenging – month for Israel in this the 70th year of her existence.

The USA officially recognising Jerusalem as the capital city of Israel by moving its embassy there,  Netta winning the Eurovision Song Contest with her song, “Toy” and all the celebrations of Jerusalem Day. All this coupled with the violent protests orchestrated by Hamas along the border of Israel and the Gaza Strip.

I thought this might be a good time to re-blog my poem, The Wailing Wall, which I wrote on my very first visit to the Western Wall in Jerusalem.  Let me know if you like it.

The Wailing Wall

A wall like any other wall

you might say.

Way above us in the cracks

the doves of peace are sleeping.

Look down and you will see

the scraps of paper,

messages left for God.

For this is no ordinary wall

and these are no ordinary people.

When you put your face

close to the wall,

it is warm

and smells of all those

who have stood here before

and done as you are doing.

For this is no ordinary wall

and these are no ordinary people.

By my side

a woman sobs and prays,

caressing the wall with her hands

like someone blind.

I stand a little lost.

How do you pray

if you’ve never prayed before?

The air is sweet

and scented and warm

and filled with the sound

of singing and sobbing.

Suddenly

I find myself crying.

For this is no ordinary wall

and these are no ordinary people.

 

 

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

The Wailing Wall

The Wailing Wall

A wall like any other wall

you might say

Way above us in the cracks

the doves of peace are sleeping

Look down and you will see

the scraps of paper

messages left for God

For this is no ordinary wall

And these are no ordinary people

When you put your face

close to the wall

it is warm

and smells of all those

who have stood here before

and done as you are doing

For this is no ordinary wall

And these are no ordinary people

By my side

a woman sobs and prays

caressing the wall with her hands

like someone blind

I stand a little lost

How do you pray

if you’ve never prayed before?

The air is sweet

and scented and warm

and filled with the sound

of singing and sobbing

Suddenly

I find myself crying

For this is no ordinary wall

And these are no ordinary people.

 

 

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems