On cobbled steps I sit and sigh
And watch the soldiers marching by.
A city shadowed dark with plight,
No bird can spread its wings in flight.
This morn, I passed a funeral,
The guests act like a tribunal
For the dead man in the coffin,
This used to happen so often.
The balcony– I lean and see
A group of boys who’re young and free
A ball weaving within their feet,
I wonder which team will face defeat.
The games they play, often a few,
Forgetting that their homework’s due,
A father yells at his young son,
“Come back before the setting sun!”
The synagogue, a place of light—
I did not go in all my plight,
My mind’s all cloudy since I’ve woke,
My faith had faded into smoke.
The empty house across from mine;
A house of webs without a shine,
Although no people, there’s a host,
A quiet one; merely a ghost.
On cobbled steps I sit and sigh,
Holding back the urge to cry.
Just trying to live, getting by;
My wings are clipped, I cannot fly.
First and foremost, I’m not an Israeli nor am I Jewish, and if there are any mistakes, please let me know!
Back in high school, we learned about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict for our Modern History subject. It was intriguing and eye-opening (and honestly, I thought Israel and Palestine were their own respective lands, but look how wrong I was!)
So, I wanted to write a creative piece about the anxieties of living in a city with a history of violence, and I wanted to explore the feeling of isolation too. If I do a lot more research on the topic, then maybe I might adapt this piece into a short story.