The Stone Of The Wailing Wall Poem by Fiona Schwartzinoff

It warms to the touch like a loved one,
Like a friend one has not seen in years.
Pressing one’s face into its surface
The stone comes to life,
It embraces and caresses.
It breathes.
It breathes soft wails,
Wind of storms
And breezes of desert lands
“I Am that I Am, ” it says.
Each word is a tear drop,
Each sweet, breathy word:
“I am Your God, I am Your Father.
I am Your Rest, I am Your Messiah.”
I hear the Wall wailing,
I hear its soft cries,
Muted by grenades of madness
And ignorance and hate.
And even when the world is ablaze
With war and fear,
I know the stone is still whispering.
You have only to lean close,
And listen to it say:
“I am the Peace of the World.”