The Tell
The hill had stood on its plain for eons
between the mountains and the Sea,
Still, quiet, barren,
As the wind blew across it
And the stars shifted,
When a hunter
Eight thousand years ago
Saw the spring at its base
And lived for awhile on its summit
Then died.
Other people came and settled on the hill
And built a village,
And, after many years,
A small city,
And then, for unknown reasons, left.
Many more cities were built on the hill:
Walled cities that lived for a while
But were in their turn burnt and destroyed
By great armies from distant empires,
Or were simply abandoned.
Each destroyed city,
Each abandoned city
Left behind a layer of debris
Of collapsed buildings and toppled walls.
And so, slowly, the hill grew.
But each time a new city
Was built atop the remains of the older ones
By new peoples
Drawn to the hill by its spring
And its promise of refuge.
Canaanite merchants, Hittite soldiers, Hebrew prophets,
Assyrian generals, Greek stone cutters,
Byzantines, Saracens, Crusaders;
Each in their time came
And left their imprint before passing on.
But there came a day
when the ground moved
And the spring dried up.
Then the people moved away,
And no one came to build there anymore.
And the wind blew across it
And the dust settled
And buried its streets and walls.
And once more
The hill stood still and quiet.
Until
Men and women from a distant university
Came to dig through its layers
To bring to light the ancient traces
Of the life that had once lived there.
(This was inspired by James Michener's novel "The Source". )
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