Papyrus sways tuft-like in the gentle wind,
Water tinkles and trickles in aural sensations,
Blue sky opens to forever behind and beyond,
Sun warms away the chill of loneliness.
For I sit alone far from you.
I am not with you, oh daughter of Zion.
I sit not within your walls, Jerusalem of Gold.
Ancient city of grace and hope, I am far from you.
Ancestors' sobs echo through winding old city streets
Then settle here, to mingle in my modern ears,
Over thousands of years, over thousands of miles.
The breaking of ancient hearts reflected by cracks in mine.
I am the diaspora.
I am your pain.
Though I've walked in your footsteps
I cannot remain.
My dreams are revisions of your yearning:
Halomot Paz, golden dreams.
Longing for reconnection
I follow the path that you wove.
But I am the diaspora.
I reflect your pain.
Though I dream in your chamber,
I shall not remain.
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