In Jerusalem

I thought
I had seen them all.
Over the years they had come;
the timid,
the frightened,
the arrogant,
the pious,
the good
and the bad.
Yes
I thought
I had seen them all.
Boys
entering the adult world,
some ready,
most not,
But this one,
was different.
This one
didn’t fit
into any category.
He was
full of questions,
like all boys
but these were
deep,
searching,
penetrating
questions.
And my usual
easy,
glib,
factual
answers
were not enough.
He was asking
me;
questioning
me
and suddenly
it was
personal,
profound.
I had to search
deep within myself
for the answers.
And when they came
he listened
so intently,
and he looked at me
so intensely
that he seemed to be looking
right inside me;
right into my soul.
And after I had spoken
there was
a pause;
a silence
as if he was taking it all in;
weighing up the truth.
And then
he nodded.
And my heart
just exploded
with joy;
a joy
I had never experienced before.
I felt that
I was the pupil
and he the teacher,
and that
I had passed
the test;
what test I did not know,
but, like a child,
I was so pleased
that I had got it right.

This was so unlike
anything
I had experienced before,
and time
seemed to stand still.
There was so much
to talk about;
a mutual sharing
of thoughts,
of ideas.
Sometimes
I was the teacher,
sometimes
the pupil,
but it didn’t matter.
He was opening my eyes
to truths
I had never known existed.
It was
exhilarating,
illuminating,
personal,
like a journey
into another world
that we were taking
together.

For three days
we went on this journey
together;
three mind-stretching days.
but in the silences
I did begin to wonder
about this boy.
Who was he?
Where had he come from?
Why was he still here?

And then,
like a whirlwind
destroying
the peace
and calm
of this ‘other world’,
two people entered;
distraught,
dishevelled,
despairing.
His parents
looking for a lost son.
But,
watching the scene
it seemed more
that they were
the ‘lost’ ones.
He,
the boy,
was calm,
authoritative,
in control of the situation.
He seemed
genuinely surprised
that they had been
searching for him.
‘ Did they not expect him
to be
in his father’s house?’
They seemed to understand this
but I was confused.
If this man
standing in front of me
was not his father
then who was?
And where was his house?

They have left now,
together,
and the place seems
strangely empty,
silent,
dark,
as if
a light
has gone out.

I must find out more
about this boy.
Perhaps
I should start with
his father.
I would really like
to meet him.


© Kathleen Wilks