City of Eternity
High, vaulted ceiling
Above my head,
Dark domes of ancient City,
I walk over flagstones
On my way to the Western Wall.
Echoes of eras long past
Cling to stone walls,
Wrestle with aromas
Of spices from distant lands.
Down narrow alley
I walk, stalls on each side,
Merchants call out their wares.
I brush against woman
Fingering fabric, scarlet and blue.
I turn, avoiding a mule laden
With vessels
And I continue on my path
Past the jostling market
To an unroofed lane,
To the Wall which nestles doves,
To the Wall where hyssop sprouts
To the Wall which houses prayers
To the Wall which borders
The ever-open Gates
Through which tears enter.
Ruth Fogelman © 2002
This poem was first published in Yated Ne'eman, 20 September 2002