An old man walks silently among the olive branches
He sweeps his hand across each one,
His open arms embrace the fall and carry their limp figure toward the ground.
The ground feels his weight,
And once more the Earth trembles and weeps
Once more its tears flow rivers
Its mountains shake
The sky dims its light.
Once more shadows fall among the lifeless roots
And once more the man walks
Through the dust and sees another
His wrinkles barely noticed,
His brow still firm, his gaze steady.
He looks into the horizon across the land
Once more barren and terrorized
Once more savaged and naked
Once more footprints no longer seen.
He lays his head next to the soil
That grew and embraced the olive tree
Buried beneath emerging souls
A smile draws on his face
Whispers of words echo in the distance,
The land awakens and welcomes the rhythm
Still alive to feel the touch of its people.
