The wind brings new colors to the old life of Jerusalem

After three months living at Jerusalem, I can only say that this city challenges us everyday, and if we don`t accept it`s challenges we are doomed to be bored by an old “sepia” city. Everyone sees with his own eyes the colors that arise from the streets, the buildings and its monuments. Either from the bright side of the coexistence that I feel even on the bus, or from the dark side of the exclusion that is hidden in the small alleys. It’s important to admit that between these sides exists a whole spectrum of eight hundred thousand people that live here.

I`ve recognized until now the colors of the culture that comes from the periphery and from the blend of past and future. This colors will guide me to write this blog. From  Amos Oz to the Tanakh itself, from Yehuda Amichai to Shaul Tchernichovsky, my imagination flows meanwhile I walk through the city, in an empty street on Shabat evening or at the crowded Central Bus Station.

I invite you, in this blog, to taste the city and to feel a little bit of it. After all, we`re all humans sharing the time of our life in this country so rich of culture, experiences and opinions. In this first post I bring to you a small poem that I wrote to mark my arrival at Jerusalem, as Oleh Chadash coming from Brazil.

Remember now, that You have made me as clay; And would You turn me into dust again? – Tanakh, Writings, Job 10-9

In a city of dust,

The wind carries history,

And each and every man sums,

To this small amount of the past.

A little bit from his body,

Cells that share experiences.

If we don’t let it go,

Let us go,

Print our sign at the city,

The dust will conquer our home,

And it will rule among us.

Each small grain that we sum,

Can overflow and change,

The understanding of the generation.

That will come,

That will live at this place.

So special,

That by itself forgot all men and women,

And remembers only the buildings that shine,

When the sunset hits.

As I learned from Yehuda Amichai,

The redemption will only comes,

When from the dust we acknowledge,

That from the dust we came and to the dust we will shall return,

Everyone.