Cold in Jerusalem

It’s cold in Jerusalem tonight

I’m sitting by the Herod’s Gate here writing

Spent the night at Metropole Hotel

Am going back now for a second.

Walked around the Old City and I saw

Friends of long, long time ago

There was Bassem there was Rima too

There was Frank and his brother, two

There was Maron as a wooden cross I sought

I didn’t find the right one, anointing oil I bought

I think tomorrow I will go to the village

I did my usual trek around the Holy grounds

Walked all over Ben Yahuda and Hillel street too

I’m getting kind of hungry I hope I’ll find a restaurant.

I used to love to be here

But now I find I must

The desire isn’t anything

Nothing like it was

But maybe its like marriage

It starts out alright

But then as hardships mount

The spouses sometimes fight

But after a long time

They find they struck it through

And then they sigh in relief

That they didn’t let go.

I also saw Lina on her way to church

And Jack, the red head he was nice

Remembered me it seemed.

Two muslims speaking Hebrew sat near me

As I’m sitting writing.

Must seem kind of strange to them

I must assume.

The walls and all the buildings are a sense of permanence

I move around so much but here things stay the same

The walls and shops and symbols

The lights and all the styles

Continue through the years

Longer than a while

In America

Things change like the wind

Here I come and find the same

Again and again.

Pangs of guilt knock lightly

Mother and my dad

One from each side of the world

Pulling on my heart

Each one has a claim

Yet heaven from above

Needs and calls with fervor

A call of higher love

How Lord have I failed

How Lord have I turned

How Lord have I failed to be

The things that should have been

Coulda, Shouda, Woulda

That’s what the people say

I wonder if the Lord

Sees it in that way.

It’s cold in Jerusalem

I’m sitting  by the gate

There were bands playing by the Jaffa Gate

Three, two were big with Arabs and with Jews

Playing melodies that made me think

Of Um Kolthoum

It’s cold in Jerusalem

Green Plaid and sweater too

Called a pullover I thinkTogether they seem warm.

The Muslim woman who is with the man and speaking Hebrew

Is smoking with a grace that shows she’s done this before

I think they’re trying to impress me

Sitting on these stone benches

For men on their way to aging

Comfort for our aches

I’m young enough to takes these treks

I’m not sure how much longer

No particular aches or pains

Beyond the usual tiredness

It’s cold in Jerusalem

I’ll see my dad tomorrow

Last time I saw him

HE said “Oh my sorrow.”

Knowing that I heard him

Hoping I’d respond

Aware of who and how I am

He didn’t linger long

He knew who’d stand beside him

When push came to shove

He held on to my hand

As does a father’s love

It’s cold in Jerusalem

The wind blows slow and cold

Seems to send a shiver

City of the soul

It’s hard not to be caught up

But sanctimony ends

When you get involved

With problems of our friends

We all could have done better

Or at least some could

Some actually did it right

And they seem to be so good

Those of us in pride

Walked in our own way

The Hebrew speaking smoking Muslims

Got up and went away

One thing I did not do

Was go to the western wall

I kind of wanted to go

I might go after all

I might stay another night

Go home Saturday

No one knows just where I am

Except my mom so far away

Maybe she will tell

Then all will quickly know

If that is the case

Tomorrow home I’ll go

Not sure how much longer

Dad will be around

I’m glad I’ll get to see him

And let him know I love him

It’s cold in Jerusalem

The nations here still flow

To the Holy places

Like a river flow

Prophecy fulfilled

Here before our eyes

Its clearer and more clearly seen

As miracles pass by.

Some are so contented and

Don’t seek for themselves

And more attention

Then that which all folks get

But others they speak louder

It seems as if to say

Look at me I’m special

IN such a special way

It’s cold in Jerusalem

Is this another song

If it is I have to stop

Because it will be too long

Maybe its symphony

With Rainy Day In Ramallah

It’s cold in Jerualem.

Arabs standing by

Women by a car that’s parked

By the Herod Gate

They have their ideas

OF what this place will be

When the King of King Returns

Then Everyone will see

The One Who was pierced

In His hands and feet

To purchase our forgiveness

And meet our greatest need

For Him and Him alone

The purpose of our lives

He alone gives the Spirit

Who Makes the dead alive

It’s cold in Jerusalem

I’ll be going  now

To my hotel bed so warm

To lay my head down.