your old stones
cobbled alleyways
whisper under my feet
of turbaned men
hurrying to mosques
women in the markets
buying candles for sabbath
blood and screams in your
dungeons too, wars:
this harmony was hard won.
your old bones
quiet deep in the earth
creep under my senses
herb women and heretics,
mystic men and magicians.
sunlight streams between
the walls, calico-covered;
lanterns unlit, caramel-clear
and black iron framed,
twists of vine hang festive
from window to window.
your old tones
bells and cracked voices
sneak under my hearing
sephardic singers wailing
the muslims calling the faithful
to the mezquitas
angelic boys light as feathers
in the cathedrals.
we bury your hatreds in history
we bury your lives
we bury you
we bury you
all over the world
we play this out again
muslim against christian
jew against muslim
christian against jew
again and again and again
we bury each other
we bury each other
for a land
for a body
for a song