Stone—when I think of Israel, I think of stone:
Ancient stone, modern stone,
Tomb stone, altar stone, Wailing stone, paving stone,
Jerusalem stone, fields of stone,
Carved stone, prayer stone, intifada stone…

And hearts of stone, calcified by fear and grief,
Haredi hearts, stony in self-righteousness,
My own heart, stony in response.
“Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.”
So much stone and heartbreak—I think I'm done with Israel.

And yet…and yet…

“If the people keep silent, the stones will cry out.”
I hear the stones cry out their tales of ages past,
See stones worn smooth by feet of folk with warm, beating hearts,
Stones sculpted into beauty by skilled human hands,
Stones cracked by sun and dew to yield a blade of grass…

Rumi says, “How should spring bring forth a garden on hard stone?
Become earth, that you may grow flowers of many colors.”
Let Israel, let Palestine, endure as long as stone,
But let the hearts of stone be crumbled into life-sustaining earth.
Let it be spring in the Birthplace of my soul.

I think I am not done with Israel.

Kate Elias 1 December 2005