Damascus

This road to Damascus
paved with ambivalence and doubt.
Left me staring at the ceiling
and the walls that moves in time.

Throw a shekel in your dead sea,
do I float or I do I drown?
Sirens calling me to prayer,
but I'm waiting to be found.

The Wailing Wall heaved and sagged and groaned,
leaving me unmoved, moving on alone

and Damascus is a long way from home.