Here And There In The Land Of Israel, Winter 2005 Poem by Mark Pollins

In the trendy Jazz club, in Tel-Aviv,
In the warm kiss of two properly-brought up teenagers,
On the waves of the loud music emanating from the fast, safe cars on highways,
Out in the cool night air, caressing the neatly carved kibbutz fields,
Over the white slabs, making up the enormous cemetery that welcomes one to Jerusalem,
Entwined with the olive-oil-coloured thread, that holds the Army's uniform together,
Added to every letter, of every word, of every chapter of such well-written books,
Following the cries of joy from kids playing, for the first time, a new intoxicating computer game,
In the stone-stare of the white-scarved Arab woman, sitting next to her husband,
On the rim of every wet, red eye observing atrocities in lands, far, far away,
Wound around the wooden pole, holding up the banner, at a demonstration against cruelty towards animals,
On the wings of the minutest of prayers, fluttering up to God,
Above, beneath, within every stone in this holy land,
Poverty of morality flows.