An observation from the Holy Land

Jesus Died and Lives in Jerusalem

I met Jesus the other day
In Jerusalem.
Actually I met few of them
Strolling down the streets.
It is quiet easy to meet them
In this old city
And the farther you go
Toward the old city
Where everything happened
In the past
The higher chances you have
To meet them.
They appears in all colors and forms
Usually on the corners of small streets
When they are away from the eyes
Of the police
And around enough people
To lecture to.
One was wearing some old
And very well used hippy clothing
With a sweet smell of alcohol
That floats in the air around him
Unshaven and a bit less clean
Than your average person
He was standing on the corner
Of Jaffa Street, speaking
The words just poured from his mouth
For hours
Barely stopping to breath
He told the story of the world
Or at least the version that he knew
Covering each and every possible topic
From ancient history
To the far future
Managing to catch some attention
Each time he raised his voice
To emphasis a point.
The other one
On the corner of Talbi’Yeah
Stood there, quietly in his white dress
With a small note attached to his chest
Saying “I Am Jesus”,
Expecting to see a dark figure
Underneath the white dress (Jalabi’yea)
The way they use to dress in some
Mediterranean countries all around
One would be shocked to find out
That this Jesus was much lighter
Looking Japanese in his features,
Standing there, staring at the people passing by
Saying nothing.
Jesus died and lives in Jerusalem,
All around you, you can find them
In various colors and looks
Standing there on street corners
Preaching to the world.
A friend of mine told me
That I’ve missed the most famous one
The one that used to travel in the
City’s triangle (main streets)
And that managed to acquire a lot of attention
Making comments
On the daily events,
Apparently he died recently
From a broken heart
Because no one believed him
That he is Jesus
And he is the Messiah.
And than I saw her
In a back street behind
The market
With pale eyes and light hair
Dressed up in an orange skirt
With flowers all around her
Singing a chant in her crystal clear voice
Addressing everyone and ignoring them
At the same time.
I stood there for a while mesmerized to her
Hypnotic tune
And her graceful gentle movement
Thinking to myself
“Maybe, I did met Jesus – at last”
but when I asked her
She just nod No with her head
And whispered:
I am not Jesus
I am from a different story
From a different time,
She smiled and just went on
Singing.