In The City Of Peace Poem by Seamus O' Brian

In puddles seeps the blood upon
The streets of old Jerusalem.
An ancient Hate once more aroused,
The narrow streets in hunger prowls.

In the City of Peace the stones cry out,
Who long have known the pang of war.
Hear their groans of protest now,
Who taste the bitter cup once more.

Parchment skinned old bag of bones—
Frail, bent man on wobbling gait
Comes lifeless down on cobbled stones
As children cheer their well-aimed hate.

Her life seeps out to stain the ground,
This father's child with lifeless eyes,
Who stares at Hebron's unseen clouds
While father's grief with anger vies.

Tender sapling, crudely downed,
And Hatred feeds—not once but twice—
Upon the child his bullet found,
And then the man who lives but dies.

Each time he hears her whimpered cries,
Recalls the slackening of her grip
Within him vengeance' furies rise
To drag him into Hatred's pit.

How will you tell your little ones
Their father took the wrong bus home?
Was blown apart by Tuesday's bomb,
Was torn from life like flesh from bone?

Oh, Jerusalem, your stones are seeped
In blood, but not yet quenched!
For He who wept again must weep
For hearts in darkness clenched.

Oh, City of Peace, your stones cry out!
Longing for the touch of One
Whose ancient blood was spilled upon
The streets of old Jerusalem.

Who chose the crown of agony
To wrest from God our enmity-
To split the holy mount by One
Who brings at last a lasting peace-
the promised peace of David's son.