Testament for Agnostics

O Jerusalem—
You are a pillow of stones
for the dead souls that sleep
midst your sunbaked heights

your own chagrined soul pledged
to a conviction as you look up
to maybe nothing more than
blue air.

You rise above the fingers of sand
in a last call to massing armies, rider
and wayfarer alike, calming the troubled,
the hopeful, with the sound of water

as if heaven’s language could be
translated to the children and animals
who would accept its words
in seeming docile reverence.

 

Volume  11.2 - December 2018

Gene Goldfarb, a Long Islander, writes and does volunteer work these days. His poetry has  recently appeared in SLANT, Black Fox, Heavy Feather and High Desert Journal.