Poem: Jewish Entry into an Arabic Holy Land
Jewish Entry into an Arabic Holy Land
By Genevieve Cora Fraser
The Jewish cab
driver
Was fearful that day
As we sped away
From
the militarized airport
Toward East Jerusalem
Through
the passes
Where the Arabs attacked
As the Zionists
advanced
Proving their mettle
In battle
He bragged
In battle
Not gas chambers
They intended
To
stay not go away
But build a life
Upon the death
knell
Of the Palestinians
Still attacking
He
conceded
Stunned when struck
Back not
anticipating
Reprisals
In time we drew
Close
thinking together
Of his past his father
A Czech his
mother
A Turk grateful
For a homeland
Feeling
locked out
And luckless
They claimed Israel
As
their own
He feared
They had not done
Well but
there
Was hope
Something
To be said
Having a
homeland
Pale face dabbed
With iridescent
Pink
around
His cheeks
He refused gum
When
offered
Diabetic
Not all together
Well ill at
ease
From my easy
Conversation
I
suspected
Grateful
For the long
Haul into the
hills
Anticipating payment
We rode as he wove
His
fears and dreams
Into the truth of not
Feeling at
home
Among the Arabs
Who might spring
A surprise
anytime
They hate us
He said
Why I asked
Not
consider
That most are gentle
Pastoral
poets
Scholars at home
In the gardens
As ancient as
Eden
They belong
Have been here
Thousands of
years
Not that he
Didn't belong
But
consider
Their rights
Their needs
There will be
peace
If there is respect
We sped past
High
tension
Wires delivering
Light communication
Warmth
to the emerging
Settlements springing
Up sudden as the
attacks
Against their encroachment
Widening the
gap
Between the haves
And have nots
Tossed aside
So others can hide
In their Jewish
Ghettos
separating
Them from The Others
West Jerusalem's
streets
Suddenly upon us
We
entered
Silently
Startled by fears
Of
facing
Arab terrorists
I suspected
I laughed
Assuring him
None would
Be found
Where I
was
Going he was lost
Dumbfounded
By the sudden
Walls and blockades
Down this street
And that
trapped
Like rats ready
To gnaw
Our way out
I
unfolded
The map
He could
Not read English
But
sweated
And stopped
To enquire
In Hebrew
Mocked
he felt
By those
Who believed
For the
almighty
Shekel he had shackled
Himself to a
terrorist
Sympathizer pro
Palestinian
Patsy
conspiring
With their enemy
Seeking a way
Into the
Old
City proper
A tourist
I reassured him
Afraid
he might
Drop me off
In the middle
Of madness
Threatening
To overspill
Into the
streets
Through fear
Of the westerner
The American
huntress
Hunting
For her Arab
Cronies
Damascus
Gate
Will do
I said
No I will take
You to
your
Hotel you will
Be safe I will not
Drop you in
a place
Where anyone could
Attack
Take
advantage
Of you confused
He spun around
seeking
The high road
The low pass
The right
road
To the Eastern
Part of the city
Too Near
Eastern
To his liking
But obliged
Muslims now
As if from Aladdin's
Magic
lantern
Appeared
Dark woolen Tus cloaks
Cotton
Jilbabs
Brushed along in swing step
Over cut stone
sidewalks
As Jews in black
Broad hats
retreated
From view
The newness of it all
The
mystique
Echoing the ancient
Past brought me
Home
to the Jerusalem
Hotel friendly
Arabic a
café
Waited to warm
Me with tea
Nice place
He
said
As I shook
His hand adding
Extra
shekels
For his
troubles
ENDS