Jerusalem

If I could rest my head

within her gates I would

fall asleep happy. 

I don’t know why

this drove so many

people mad, but

I get why they love her

prayers held inside

honey-colored walls

like apricot hands.

I get why they love her

prophets that wake up

dreaming about how God

is light in narrow streets.

I get why they love her.

Holy City. Holy

steadfast mother,

grown tired of waiting 

for peace.