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We'd made a dawn start that day, following in his footsteps, as
apparently Jesus used to get up early.
Our group had gathered for a reading, and to pray, along with
fruit and cereals our first staples of the day. 
The good Lord had gifted us a painted morning of Coeruleum blue, 
 and a warm spiced breeze flossed my smile.
I turned and watched the city for a while. 
Amidst the pink and beige jigsaw of the old city, the Dome of the rock
had caught the morning rays and was now bragging about it, 
shamelessly blinging, 
competing with the shouts of Minarets
 and Church bells ringing.
Few things can compete with an Israel morning, but you did.
Perched like an Owl on a low wall, cross-legged, your head moved
from side to side, scanning the mount, sharing our glass,
drinking the moment.
You wore white cotton, an arm hung with beads, an evil eye bracelet 
and what looked like a Kara, glistening. 
Styled by the Gods, with three quarters of a straw hat 
wedged in the bricks.
And then I found myself before you,
 Lord knows how, and I was trying to remember how my mouth worked.
Your head cocked to one side you watched me for a while
then nodded me a soft hello, and finished with a smile.
Ice broken, we gathered intelligence- you, a 'gap year Guerilla'
on a global reconnaissance , armed with just a shoulder bag and a credit card.
Me, a lapsed Catholic with an empty soul, seeking a childhood faith long discarded.
A shout from the tour guide burst our intimate bubble and I retreated,
backwards, gesturing, as if in the presence of a Shah.
She waved back, almost lost her balance, and a gust of wind would
have placed her gently among the sleeping of the Kidron 
if she hadn't grabbed her hat.
And that was that.
I went back to the wall that evening, and the following morning,
I don't know why-  she'd be bathed in the rose of Petra by then.
For a short time I was bereft, and stood, fittingly, before the
Basilica of the Agony, and then sat on our wall, 
to watch the chosen wake up.
I think my soul woke a little, just then.
For God had left me with a little bit of love. 
Unrequited, but worth hanging on to , 
worth building on.
It's been thirty five years, and in those occasional quiet places
I still think of you


For contest 'Love in a far off place', sponsored by Frank Herrera
22nd July 2015
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