At the End of the Pilgrimage

My feet are pilgrim sore
having climbed stone steps up to temple heights
and down into underground waterways beneath the city;
my face is red from desert winds and sun.

I have lit candles in the hushed and incensed air of churches
and muttered prayers at the western wall,
sung psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs
in the bus and on the boat.

I have seen far too much in too short a time;
how can I go home just now?
Next year in Jerusalem!