an apology.

Holy Land- not mine to take

stolen land,
stolen past,
stolen place.
I don't know your side, 
see the tears in your eyes-
the ones you want to cry 
but don't 
and know
that there is more to this than I could know.
more than cause and effect-
the judgement that infects
the stigma you must bear.
I'm sorry on behalf of those who 
stare, with empty tasteless eyes
longing to despise you
for your story- I'm sorry
that it's comprised 
in part by my ancestory,
sorry that history 
benefits only me,
and
I'm beginning to understand
that though we stand together
on this same street
there is a space between
you 
and 
me 
where we will never meet.

and as I stand here
in silent shame
(Holy Land, stolen place)
I lament the part which I have played
and, naming the history that's 
mine to face
I begin the slow walk
toward being changed.