Everything he said enraged me.
It was as if he were dripping
poison into my ears, even though
most of it sounded perfectly
innocuous, even good-willed.
Like that little remark
about the purity of its air.
“No polluting industries for the holy city”
he said, and we all knew
that it was our own air that was being polluted
to keep Jerusalem clean.
Every place he took us enraged me,
even though I do not hate this city,
and the food we ate, both at
the kosher restaurant
and the gate, was
blessed.
The tunnel that took us
under Bethlehem
under Ramallah
showed we had made
two levels
to suit our vision.
The dress of the women, Muslim and Jew
was more similar to each other than to me.
And the babies in their arms
clinging to their long dresses,
had the same eyes, so different
from the eyes of those
I myself have raised.
Then I went back to the perspective of Tel Aviv
and saw that I myself
am making this distinction
moving even the mothers of Jerusalem
from my heart because they live
in that city that has caused such pain.
At the Wall, I enjoyed most
the laminated prayer
hanging on the entrance
to the toilets, praising
the Lord who has made for us
holes and entrances.
And kerchiefed I approach the Wall
and squeezed a note in a cranny
that said: Please
arrange a little earthquake
to swallow all the holy places
without harming a single soul.

KAREN ALKALAY-GUT was born in London and received her Ph.D. at the University of Rochester (New York). In 1972 she moved to Israel and since 1977 she has taught at Tel Aviv University. In addition to a book on popular culture and a biography of the poet Adelaide Crapsey, she has published a number of books of poetry, most recently So Far, So Good (Sivan, 2004).