Massada

As I walked through the ruins
Of the ancient fortress of Massada,
Rising a thousand feet
Above the Judean Desert,
On that huge, square mountain table
Overlooking the Dead Sea,
Where the brilliant yellow
Of the forbidding sand and stone
Merges with the blue of sea and sky,
Its trance-like unreality,
Of beauty, ruggedness and magnificence
Deeply touched me,
With its mystic strangeness.

Suddenly, while standing
In the ruins of the old temple,
I heard the voices of the eight hundred,
Who had ended their lives here,
Two thousand years ago,
As free men, worshipping Jehovah,
Rather than surrender to the pagan Romans,
And I saw their images in the bright sunlight,
While the wind carried their plaintive lament.

Frightened I turned and left quickly,
Leaving my ancient brothers behind me,
To tell their story and work their magic
On some other spellbound traveler.......

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2005 Alfred Charasz