The eternal refugee

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They fell from the city its confines rejected them like a virus,

yet still they lived, disembodied.

 

Forging to the seas they sailed,

ancient text and relics folded in palm and cortex.

 

Warmed by Sun then chilled by Winds,

living by stars and bread and wine, delivered from banishment.

 

As refugees they arrived silent at first, claiming their ground.

Setting down new roots, fragile in unseeded soil.

 

The land was no-ones until it was theirs, and then it flourished,

they staked it for god with his words and the treasures they rescued.

 

Like them he grew and reached for sky

filling spaces with his promises until promises gave purpose.

 

The earth piled into cities which fractured into cells,

their exodus became lost in time and myth, they have always been here now.

 

From this land they rule, oppress and expel,

a divided place of common blood, this Kingdom of Heaven

 

that will not be shared. 

 

© Wolfgar 2/2018

 

◄ A definition of sanity

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Comments

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Wolfgar Miere

Tue 20th Feb 2018 15:21

Maybe it is a bit like that Ray, like time has stood still in some places. As frustrating as it is there is no right or wrong, outsiders are reduced to observers in the game, and maybe that is as it should be.

As evidence look at the plethora of international organizations labelled with the word "Observers" there is very good tactical and rational thinking behind that.

Anything other than observation is interference surely, and could the word "observer" be a smoke screen? I think in many cases the answer is yes.

SS, for most who live within these factories of myth there seems little hope of physical escape.

Thanks again,

David.

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suki spangles

Tue 20th Feb 2018 01:18

Hi David,

Always enlightening reading your (poetic) insights, thoughts and reflections on your new locale. History, truth, faith and myth all intertwined. How to escape from such a Kingdom of Heaven?

SS

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raypool

Mon 19th Feb 2018 15:20

With your recent poems, all fascinating, I feel like being on a train running side by side with another parallel watching others; the other is carrying the "believers" the one we're on going further . Is that what it's like in foreign lands? or is it my seedy imagination. Don't know.

Great stuff and thought provoking. Ray

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Wolfgar Miere

Mon 19th Feb 2018 14:55

Thanks Martin, Keith and Stu,

Very kind and encouraging words from you all. It's a great thing to still learn something new every day, wonderful.

David.

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Stu Buck

Mon 19th Feb 2018 08:08

brilliant david. such power and movement in the lines. stay safe.

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keith jeffries

Sun 18th Feb 2018 18:50

David,

This poem speaks volumes of where you are and what you are witnessing. The ownership of land is an illusion, no where more so than in Jerusalem. One can only take some hope from the definition of the New Jerusalem where all people will live with no temple. (Revelation).

For those who have been to the Holy Land and for those who have not your poem paints a picture of present day reality. Keep writing David, we want to hear more. Thank you

Keith

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Martin Elder

Sun 18th Feb 2018 18:23

This is truly superb David. Your present location is obviously providing a rich source of inspiration.
Nice one

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