West of the West Bank

On a stretch of land with boundaries that shift

 With the desert sand thru’ the hour glass of fear.

Claimed by warriors for their own respective Gods

 The land won with blood, but lost in tears.

Two little boys plod through the deserted soil

The same ground that stood many a brave man

The same soil where the blood of an unknown,

Of the conqueror and the conquered ran.

These two friends look toward a dipping horizon

Where every morning bursts with the promise unsold

Riches of happiness ride with the bursting of night

To set in that distant line when hopes’ embers grow cold.

A thorn he runs down in his hand till blood made a point

The other, in reply, with that thorn bursts his skin

And both of them stare at the others wound

Smiling that the colour of pain remains akin.

Happily climbing down that hill of ignorance

Hands entwined with the blood from two hearts

Split for their own Gods- the One with many a name

Who gave the dawn of time its first start.

Two friends bid farewell as day gives way to night

Strengthened by a bond that a thorn did weave  

Ishmael heads east to hark the call for Maghrib

While Isaac heads the other way for the Maariv.

Maghrib- The Maghrib prayer , prayed just after sunset, is the fourth of five formal daily prayers (salat) performed by practising Muslims.

Maariv- Maariv or Ma'ariv also known as Arvit is a Jewish prayer service held in the evening.

The last few steps

The first step was in purple,

Robed by the soldiers, condemned at Pilate’s seat.

Mocked by the Pharisees, crowned by the people.

Then pride took a fall, and into the dust conceit,

Bled from the temple.

The next few heavy steps,

Drops of greed and envy fell like water.

Mixed in his sweat a pouring stream wept

With the anguish of Jerusalem’s daughters.

And fear in death slept.

Weighed down in pain,

Through the way of sorrows he bore it all,

Carrying anger and fear and man’s disdain

Trembling in love, lifted up again to fall

For man so vain.

At last on Golgotha’s hill

He gently put me down. ‘It is finished’ he screamed.

Pride, envy, greed and anger forever be still.

“Father into your hands”, with love redeemed.

Do as you will.

Unred

When in school I was sent to a prayer gathering once,

They thought it would change some of my ways hence.

And around me, each Bible had page and pages inked in red

My lines of black on white, well, looked kind of dull and dead.

So that night, inspired, with red ink and rule

I underlined pages till my fingers turned blue.

Years later, back home, I found that Bible one bright holiday morn,

Standing out in red were chapters from the Song of Solomon.

~Dann Thomas