reflections from bethesda.

with no path prepared, i choose to wander, 

drawn through the cobblestone streets of al Quds. 

i am chased by echoes of singing in majestic tongues of longing.

pilgrims traveled from near and far; all are searching for something. 

beggars reach out wrinkled hands, hunger in their eyes. 

soldiers stand with solemn stares, guns hanging by their sides. 

children hide in darkened doorways, giggling at passerbys. 

church bells chime alongside cries to Allah; 

timeworn prayers are whispered, pressing in close. 

i wonder--if these walls could speak, what stories would they tell? 

•••

as i walk, i sense my own story encompassed in this journey. 

carrying notebooks filled--but with more questions now than answers. 

heading down winding alleys with dead ends, back and forth again. 

•••

i happen upon the pools of Bethesda, last visited my first day here, many months ago. 

a drizzle begins to fall from the sky, guiding me towards shelter in these ancient ruins.

this reservoir where the blind and paralyzed once lain--yearning to see, waiting for healing. 

i imagine the sort of questions asked here, the pain and hope reflected in these waters. 

i know more now than i knew it then:

this world is not fair, our path in it not clear.

yet somehow there is beauty, grace, hidden in the cracks.