monday of holy week -- a sonnet

In ancient streets where dust and shadows play,
Jerusalem, cradle of faith and strife,
Amidst the clamor, sorrow found its way,
As Jesus wept o'er the tumult of life.

His eyes beheld the city's ancient walls,
Yet saw beyond the stone, the heart laid bare,
For in its streets, where fervent fervor calls,
He sensed the burden of despair and care.

"Oh, Jerusalem, how oft would I gather
Thy children, as a hen her brood, in love,
But ye would not, and now the shadows gather,
The tears I shed, a symbol from above.

For in this sacred city, strife and pain,
Yet love's eternal light still strives to reign."