“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing”. (Matthew 23:37)
By Forough Amin
11 September , 2024
The above verse from the Bible shook me to my core when I first heard it last week. Hearing Jesus Christ’s sorrow over Jerusalem’s fate more than 2,000 years ago struck a deep chord.
Realising that this story is as old as history itself—that Jerusalem has always been a city of peace and war, love and hate—was both fascinating and sobering to me.
This made me to write the piece below:
Oh, Jerusalem
I have never visited you.
Never walked your cobbled streets,
nor leaned against your stone walls,
nor sat beneath your ancient olive trees.
I have never tasted the dates from your palms,
nor inhaled the scent of fresh bread
wafting through your narrow alleys,
nor slept under your shimmering night sky.
Yet, how is it that I feel so close to you?
How is it that my heart melts for you,
and my tears fall at the thought of you?
I am not of your land.
I was not born upon your soil.
Neither am I a zealous Jew, Christian, or Muslim
to claim faith binds me to you.
Yet, I see myself longing for you.
You are the land of love and hate,
Of peace and war,
Eternally, to infinity.
How do you stir such tenderness and rage,
How do you awaken both affection and enmity
In the hearts of so many?
You have witnessed Moses,
on Mount Sinai, speaking with God.
You have seen Abraham,
ready to sacrifice his son on the Temple Mount.
You have sheltered David, Solomon,
and the footsteps of Muhammad upon your sacred earth.
You are the beloved of three faiths.
Yet, how can love breed such hatred?
You are the beautiful enchantress,
For whom the whole town
Wages war against itself.