Somewhere too far away for me to remember, I found you
as we stared at tanned skin pierced with silver, entranced
by the reflection it's possible to find. I wondered at you,
with a filtered cigarette between your perfectly arched lips.
Wondered if Israel was the only place we could sleep together
without being called (there's a name for it), but you
wiped my fears away (as if I was sad) and it was those dusty days
that we watched the air fade to dawn and I watched you
smoke so many cigarettes that I don't want to watch it ever again.
Secret tunnels through Jerusalem and it's not where I found faith; it was you
that found my faith for me. Israel's for being strong and you
are for making me be strong even when the walls fall around
me as I sleep. I heard in my dreams the voice of God telling me to keep you
with me always (is this what finding the Holy land means?) You
cried with a cigarette between your lips as Israel left us behind and
I held your hand and watched dawn come as the plane rose and you
never let go. I found you with God between your lips and you
whispered me into my own dreams until my name became the breath
between your lips (I tried to say yours but all that ever comes out
is I love you). Casey, you whispered with nicotine breath, and I heard the voice of God.