IN THE RUBBLE

On top of their shattered homes,

They gather at dusk to break their fast.

In this holy time on their holy soil

they’ve somehow rigged-up lighting

and levelled a path for tables

 - even saved food through the famine and siege

to celebrate, commemorate.

 Ramadan, Passover

next door to each other, so close:

consanguine - yet utterly distant - impassible, impossible and yet…

there are those who know and see,

on both sides, the both.

Where joy and agony blend

with the options of alchemy, 

wherein apartheid transmutes

and there is such a thing as forgiving, forgoing mafia revenges

and the poisons of hatred.