upon the mount…

no calls
for alms
no cans
for coins
he stood
a man of 
just straw
dressed in scarecrow clothes
with  tears  flowing from eyes
asif to irrigate the hope within
his heart
looking
finding
just me
a   fool
and he
knew i
was not
so wise
as to
understand
his cries to share a tear
so said to me… to share a tear
is to care about others as much i
cared about my own loves in this life

and they did unto others…

just like before
the hole was dug
perhaps it was
more of a trench
a mass grave
for the living
families
were herded in
beaten men
pregnant women
helpless children
all into this ghetto
sealed
with walls
wires
checkpoints
ships
and of course rules
for maintaining
social standards
everyone in
no one out
like every
grave