How did the place first
become holy? Home to
Shalem, shrine of Baal,
a threshing-floor
on the mountain.

The sound of the stone,
the blood of usurpers,
odes to lost children.
Physical splendour alternating
carnage & exultation.

A stretch of that road is visible,
huge blocks of stone. During Passover,
Succoth & Shavuoth,
ox teams hauling
huge slabs of limestone

the sluices of blood, the stench.
In the sanctuary
of churches, mosques & synagogues,
sacred rites of faith
never beyond surveillance.

Signs of messianic redemption,
bleats & bellows of sacrificial animals,
tricky pirouettes. The outline
of the mountain
gradually disappeared.

A lamb for Passover, a bull
for Yom Kippur. This
would have been his path.
Pilgrims spend the night
on the outlying hills,

lights shine from the arches
down its western slope.
The view here is stunning,
five or six coloured hens,
a herd of sheep among scarlet anemones.

 

Copyright © Aidan Semmens, 2003