stopping to pray on nablus road

our father

drawn to the familiarity
and thirsty for the silence,
i sat.

in heaven

i saw his shadow approaching,
and my heart pounded, please no, please no:
"are you just here for yourself, or for our 6 o'clock prayer?"

hallowed be

it's only twenty minutes.
as soon as i said

thy name

my voice cracked 
and my face went salty
but there were only two of us,

so i did my best with psalm 33,
thanking the Lord for his kindness,
making this world so beautiful.

for the Lord loves righteousness.

it may be sacrilegious,
but i did not so much as agree,
and not for confrontation's sake,

and justice.

it's just that
the church was in east jerusalem,
and earlier that day 

He is our help and our shield.

i drank tea with the cavedwellers
who told me how their town went from
500 families

to 43. 

was, is now, and will be forever.

later on
i sat next to a soldier 
who told me that he had had

to use human shields
and send palestinians to check for bombs
in deserted bags on the street in Hebron,
to deter booby-traps later on. 

blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord.

the words fell out of my mouth
without hesitation,
but in between the sermons and pauses for silence

we believe in one God

i broke the song with my cracking voice
and blood shut eyes.

(where are you?)

but what is faith,
the reading asked,

without work?

sad eyes won't rebuild
demolished structures
or shield activists from the settler's
metal chains,
or give rightful owners
the right to their land
or make simple this
mess.

thy kingdom come.

maybe words
or cameras
or an almost sweet smile
or lots more tea
will help.

on earth as it is in heaven.

maybe.

DLS