The sapphire blue waves of the Galilee sparked in the bright morning sun as I settled myself on the soft dewy grass near its rocky shore. In a country that really has no end to its tourist season, I found myself mysteriously alone in the town of Capernaum. As I wandered aimlessly around the craggy… Continue reading Christ at the Galilee
It was my second day full day away from Al-Khalil and as I left Jerusalem in my little rental car I felt something brewing inside, a little niggling feeling in the back of my head. Fear. I dismissed it as absurd - there was nothing to be afraid of (at least not anymore), yet as… Continue reading Fear on the Rocks
I have struggled to write this, both because of the extremity of the topic and because I do not have the words... I cannot write beautifully about this because there is nothing beautiful about it - only shock and horror. I have no words to describe the sound of a child being tortured - the… Continue reading The Sound of Pain
The lip of the river was carpeted in a bed of tender moss, enveloped in sharp edged bulrush and the stiff stalks of sea wheat. It was in this narrow pocket that I sat, watching the sunlight dance on the algae green waters of the Jordan River as it changed from early morning gray to… Continue reading Meditation on the Jordan
Today I will be copying directly out of the journal I kept while I was in Palestine. What is found here is the culmination of very detailed notes that I took during a visit with a friend at Military Court Watch while visiting Sabeel. I don't think I could write it any better than I… Continue reading Child Imprisonment
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger May you never take one single breath for granted God forbid love ever leave you empty handed I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean Whenever one door closes I hope… Continue reading I Hope You Dance…
I was on the bus returning from Bethlehem, lost in another world listening to music and gazing out of the window as the steel Behemoth made its precarious way through the winding, narrow streets of Beit Jala. I was looking for my favorite piece of graffiti; scrawled with an unsteady hand in black spray paint… Continue reading Cowards Die Many Times Before Their Deaths
