Have Ya Been There?

Now have ya been there, have ya really, been there?
Have ya crossed the Allenby Bridge by day from Jordan
When such passage through the terminal maybe endless in time,
Where your success depends on the mind of a youth with a gun
Who knows you not by name.

Have seen the City of Jericho, whose walls came a tumblin’ down,
Been replaced by the new one of wire and steel
So as not to threaten the ones who farm their lands beyond?
Have ya driven up from the Dead Sea, passed the shanties of the Bedouin who flee,
Not because they are reckless, and feckless but because they simply are not free?

Have ya passed by the new Settlements,
that form new walls to the East, of the City that once was the scene of the Holy ones and their priests?
Have ya passed through the gates of that City whose babe was born long, long ago,
And is now a place so surrounded that even the wise men can’t go.
Have ya experienced the check points in origin that are meant to secure,
But instead, further divide the land, its people and their mature?

Have you traveled up from Ben Gurion, on up to the Galilee, raced down passed the city of Jericho, across to Jerusalem, Joppa and the Sea,
Without even a trace of the secrets that are within, the
Nearly four hundred miles of concrete for which it is a sin.
Have ya slept in a cave of the shepherds, pulled olives from their trees, and tried to take them to the markets, lined with walls as far as you can see?



Have ya been there? Have you really seen?
Have ya been to the old city of Hebron, that has endured death and desolation,
Walked down its old streets, passed the market shops
Now shuttered below from their clients, and stormed from above by the rain of garbage, and the epithets of the new “owners”?
Have ya been to the temple of worship where the bodies of the patriarchs abide, and reflect on the three great religions whose
Paths are more closely aligned, than imagined?
Have ya been there?

Have ya stayed with the families in Beit Sahour, whose Christian heritage is fading?
Not only because they’re sealed off from their roots, in the villages that were long ago invaded,
But because they can’t make a living, they and their families must go.
Have you walked the camps around Bethlehem,
Whose numbers near 20,000 or so, and whose children wander the Alleys, shooting cap guns and throwing stones,
Fighting an enemy they have seen take away their fathers and brothers and so?

Have you gone to the gates of Gaza - Rafa, Erez to name just a few?
Where inhabitants live like prisoners surrounded on all sides and the view?
Where the glass windows of the Crossing at Erez appear,
As some mall we might see in the land of the free, yet denies the tales within.
But the truth lies for those to hear, with over a million and half human beings,
Trapped by the fence that denies them their defense,
And Like shooting fish in a barrel, vulnerable and exposed.






Have ya seen the hungry children there, the men unemployed and depressed,
Because they have no meaning, no life and so they have much distress.
Until they promise to respect their captors, they have little of real life left.
But how can that be, from the land of the free, of mercy and justice.

A State that denies so much,
Must really have an alternative agenda, for which they feel is their destiny or some other disguised motive.
The captors have really lost their souls it seems.
Who can blame those within for their rockets, when a generation of children have nothing
To dream about, to strive for, to reach out amongst the forgotten.

So take a trip and see for yourself, and get up from that table!
Go to the land of strained enchantment if you are able.
Don’t take a route of comfort, nor just to see the historical stones.
Travel to its cities within the walls themselves, to the camps, and valleys below,
The settlements that rim above, the stolen trees and demolished homes.
For that is where you’ll find me, amongst the living stones.


Bill Plitt
Feb. 9, 2009