Jerusalem: The Shepherdess

Abstract

a FICTION I come to Jerusalem to be with my amour. I come to dance with her divine spirit. The glow of youth is behind me, and the madness of humankind is still a mystery to me. Deeply troubled by the course of the human race, where insanity stretches the envelope of reason, I still see under the dome of heaven a world that is barbaric, selfish, and ungrateful . The daily depressing news pierces its claws into the skin of my soul; warfare in countries, outrages of injustice, protests in every language, tyrants crushing freedom, refugees at borders, poverty in shadows, and the seeds of peace and happiness tossed to the farthest fringes of the world. When my simple heart is ravaged and in need of deep virtue, I come to my beloved city to imbibe from her rich wells and wise fountains. Mystified by the matrix of humanity, I shed all my skin, address my heart to adventure, and take my journey to Jerusalem. As I prepare for my excursion, people try to force their biased opinions upon me, but I refuse to carry a canvas strongly colored by others. For I never desire to only be a connoisseur of a cause, but a connoisseur of humanity. I want the spirit of this majestic city to seize my being and throw me into the accented fabric of humanity. I shall venture into my winding and arduous inner soul, exploring the tendrils of life. I need to feel myself by myself. Jerusalem The Shepherdess by Yousef Khanfar Sometimes Jerusalem is too much Jerusalem. It is not that humans like war, they are just unfaithful to peace. In the following voyage of self-discovery and reflection on humanity—excerpted from a forthcoming book—the author encounters Jerusalem, personified, on the Mount of Olives. WORLDLIT.ORG 71 DANA BARQAWI, WOMAN DIGGING THORNS OUT OF FIELD / COURTESY OF THE ARTIST COVER FEATURE JERUSALEM | BY YOUSEF KHANFAR Beneath the crest of this noble land, the ashes of the powerful and powerless are all mixed together. This is a voyage of self-discovery and a reflection on humanity through my pilgrimage to Palestine. I travel to Old Jerusalem with a balanced air and tabula rasa. I arrive with fresh thoughts and an overheated imagination . Seen from a distance, my gaze floats over her endless vistas and unfolding hills. Lingers over the rooftops of homes and holy places. Hovers about the magnificent minarets and church spires that loom with pride in the sky. The great wall frames the Old City with eight gates for access; the Damascus Gate is the most magnificent and busiest. None of the gates carries a female name, except Bab Sitt Miriam Gate, which the Palestinians named out of respect for Mary, mother of Jesus. The Old City consist of four quarters: Muslim, Jewish, Christian, and Armenian. Behind these walls is a metropolitan mosaic with invisible borders between neighborhoods; an ancient city full of exciting Oriental bazaars, bustling lives, holy places, native inhabitants, visitors, and tumbling dominoes of stairs upon stairs upon stairs. In my fascination, I dream of Jerusalem as a glowing goddess . She comes with all her dazzling beauty and stands only an olive away from me. I am Lady Jerusalem, she says, welcome to my city. I bring heaven to earth for people to experience. I shepherd them toward their own desires. I shall hover over you and keep you safe. You shall be intoxicated with her divine beauty and find the flowing light of revelation. Roam my city, feel the pulse of her happiness and sadness, but free her from the past dust of violence and the gray ashes of conflict. Reveal her truth to your circle of friends. Then she gently says goodbye to me and fades away beyond the horizon, yet her spirit seeps deep into my heart and blossoms luxuriously. I say to myself, write your diary every day; an empty page is an empty day. I shall capture images with beauty, what I see with truth. So come, come to the land of infernos and legends, where alleys chase alleys, questions ask questions, massacres invite massacres, souls devour souls, and Gods tussle with Gods...