I left Jerusalem.
All warned people left Jerusalem.
We expected a godly demonstration
and feared turning into salt.
I traveled alone
in the company of others.
All of us looked at our feet
as we stepped away from tradition.
I hoped this was the end
of perennial war.
But the weight of Nothing changes
kept my head down.
My footsteps covered the footprints
of those in front of me.
A man by the side of the road
with his head broken open
had a votive candle where his brain
once was.
This is the beginning
simultaneous with the end.
A single mother struggled to keep her children
from looking back toward home.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 