What one writes after three nights of helicopters overhead…

Listening to Jerusalemlights

Jerusalem is a symphony
of sirens.

Where overtures
of war wail
through the atmosphere
like an air-born opera
of under-cover opera’tions
leaving loud impressions.

Here we are all ears
all audience
in awe.
We are the living
Shema.
Every morning
we cock our ears over coffee cups
We are all dreaming Jacobs.

With helicopters hovering
above us
like angels
ascending & descending
with tidings
of intifadas & operettas
unending

*
And how we will never forget
that soaring roaring aria
of the 3 month old soul
at the train stop
as she went up – like smoke – smooth and fast
and we are left furious and helpless except
for our higher purpose
our purse full of psalms
our pamphlets
our glasses
gasping, clapping
cathartic
helpless
but not hopeless

Listening for the righteous
ringtones of a higher calling
like it was a world-class masterpiece.

We are at the Opera
known as Jerusalem
listening breathless
from box seats.