We went for a walk

on a mountain so old

so worn down and tumbled

set in the middle of a brash, new plain

sculpted by Time’s immemorial labour pains.

 

Where Eve, so it is said

set foot.

Where old Noah’s boat

stuck in the mud.

 

And we had Polaroid photos taken

standing there

just like that first rebellious pair

reconciled

but to a path of stones and thorns

of tears and travail.

So it is said.

 

They came down

where I put my preposterous foot

and sat on a rock, looking for pebbles

while Pakistani tourists threw pepsi cans

down holy Arafat

and sat on tinsel bedizened camels, laughing

on Xmas eve.

 

I never laughed

but filled my pockets with stones

- and never minded the bill!

 

 

 

 

Jan 1985

(Coptic Xmas Eve)