I pause with reverence 

on the balcony of my

hotel room in the 

Holy City. Across 

from me stands the 

New Gate, and my eyes 

follow Jerusalem’s

ancient walls

as far as I can see. 

The golden Dome of

the Rock faintly

gleams as dawn 

peaks its way up

and over the horizon 

and walls. Slowly, 

slowly, the sun,

now hanging 

immobile in space,

disperses gold and 

scarlet ribbons across 

the heavens. I am

moved by this 

quiet beauty

and feel alone in it.

I have traveled across 

the ocean 

naively 

with baskets 

of sun rays. These 

are  for the 

prisoners of pain 

who have survived

the terror of night.

These sun rays are 

for real. 

They are for 

when the world

goes black again. 

But, what am I

thinking? I can’t

give away light!

Even after the Israeli

sunrise 

lights up the 

sky, 

life still shudders 

here

in the dark and weeps. 

Rachel mourns her 

babies, and Jacob cries 

for Joseph. Asaph weeps his

day of trouble, and Israel 

nurses an oozing wound. 

Ishmael is released 

and dying at once.

The living hostages are

safe in their beds,

and the family is reunited.

Promises are kept 

and promises broken. 

And more promises

arrive at the door.

The crushed grapes 

still bleed beneath 

Jewish feet, while they 

light the candles and 

and clink the wine

crystals of Shabbat. 

Rachel mourns her 

babies, and Jacob cries 

for Joseph. Asaph weeps his

day of trouble, and Israel 

nurses an oozing wound. 

Ishmael is released and 

dying at once.

I sit in the dark too

and 

wait and weep.

I wait for the Wind 

of Beauty to stir,

to swirl, and to swallow

up forever the 

crooked 

heart–the bent to evil,

and to breathe, breathe 

life into these

dead bones.

-Bonnie Saul Wilks