Oh Jerusalem my heart.
Torn with the bitter tears of despair.
Mother of all my children.
Born naked, in fear, falling from your womb into a pit of fire.
What hope can these guiltless fragile babies have in such a world.
What true life is promised beyond the cage of hate.
What breath may taste rare nectar.
What eye may drink the light divine.
What ear may hear the promise of a lovers sigh.

Oh Jerusalem, your face reflects in every drop of rain.
In every heart and eye and hand.
You are the fountain of the world's desire turned into nightmare.
You are the fruit of the world tree that we have planted and tended and
poisoned with our own hands.
We are all to blame.
 Don't look away.  That is your face lying dead in the street.
That is you wielding weapons among the helpless.
Don't look away.  That is your face laughing at the rape and death and
starving throngs.
That is your face dying, raped and starving, waiting for the fire.

Oh Jerusalem, I cast myself into that fire.
I tear my heart strings wide and pour my blood into the pit.
My hopes and dreams mean nothing if one babe is crushed beneath the wheel.
My life is vanity unless I lose it all for them.
And all our useless mutterings are just the rustling of leaves.
And all our acts are empty wasted refuse, unless we offer them like dung to
feed the rose of  hope.