I love this place because she’s wild
And, like an independent child
Who’s true to her own destiny,
Is simply what she ought to be:
An antidote to sacred stones,
To holy walls and hallowed bones;
To shopping malls and monstrous towers,
To shallow plots with soulless flowers;
To architects who think they can
Exclude all nature from their plan.
Although I’m sure her hard-pressed staff
Would separate her wheat from chaff
Had they the funds, I beg their pardon:
To me the glory of this garden
Is that upon her lusty weeds
Endangered wildlife freely feeds;
That here alone I feel I’m whole,
When once a day I come to stroll;
That this dear Eden is, what’s more,
The Holy City’s secret core.
Jerusalem
11 June 2003