Jerusalem Sunday Poem by Suheir Hammad

jeru
salem
sun
day
three muezzins call idan
where one's allah begins another's
akbar ends inviting the last
to witness mohammad's prophecies
church bells ring the sky
an ocean shade of blue above
christ's tomb and the stones
of this city witness man's weakness
boys run by the torah
strapped to their third eye
ready to rock their prayers
the roofs of this city busy as the streets
the gods of this city crowded and proud
two blind and graying
arab men lead each other through
the old city surer of step than sight
tourists pick olives from the cracks
in the faces of young and graying
women selling mint onions and this
year's oil slicking the ground
this city is wind
breathe it
sharp
this history is blood
swallow it
warm
this sunday is holy
be it
god