A Peaceful Land

I lie here as if in a dream, intoxicated by aromas of the Levant. A breeze rolls over the hills of the Holy Land and infuses with fresh cardamom, saffron, olives, and thyme as the overlapping babble of Hebrew and Arabic becomes one language. Muezzins lead the call to prayer, church bells ring, and worshippers cry for Yahweh. The trees sway and the birds dance to the backdrop of a passing sun; children laugh in the distance. If only this were a peaceful land.