Oh Jerusalem: An Iranian perspective
Dr. Forough Amin is the founder of a women's organisation based in New Zealand. She also holds a PhD in Discourse Studies from Auckland University of Technology and was a university lecturer in Iran for 11 years before moving to New Zealand in 2015. A committed researcher and advocate for women’s rights, her work focuses on the Middle East, examining the intersections of culture, gender, and identity while amplifying underrepresented voices.
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As someone from the Middle East, I have long felt an inexplicable pull toward Jerusalem without fully understanding why. There is something about this land; so layered with stories and so ancient that draws one to the very essence and roots of the region.
A verse from the Bible that I heard for the first time about two years ago at a community event about religions shook me deeply: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing” (Matthew 23:37).
Hearing Jesus Christ’s sorrow over Jerusalem’s fate more than two thousand years ago resonated with me profoundly, especially against the backdrop of the region’s seemingly unending conflicts that can feel, at times, deeply paralysing.
It brought a sudden clarity: this story is as old as history itself. Jerusalem has always been a city of peace and war, of love and loss; its contradictions seem woven into its identity. It also reminded me that history stretches far beyond any one human life, and that seeing it in its long, continuous perspective can instill a sense of humility and perhaps less rigidity in how we respond to the challenges of the present. It was this realisation that inspired me to write the piece.
Oh, Jerusalem
I have never visited you.
Never walked your cobbled streets,
nor leaned against your stone walls,
nor sat beneath your ancient olive trees.
I have never tasted the dates from your palms,
nor inhaled the scent of fresh bread
wafting through your narrow alleys,
nor slept under your shimmering night sky.
Yet, how is it that I feel so close to you?
How is it that my heart melts for you,
and my tears fall at the thought of you?
I am not of your land.
I was not born upon your soil.
Neither am I a zealous Jew, Christian, or Muslim
to claim faith binds me to you.
Yet, I see myself longing for you.
You are the land of love and hate,
Of peace and war,
Eternally, to infinity.
How do you stir such tenderness and rage,
How do you awaken both affection and enmity
In the hearts of so many?
You have witnessed Moses,
on Mount Sinai, speaking with God.
You have seen Abraham,
ready to sacrifice his son on the Temple Mount.
You have sheltered David, Solomon,
and the footsteps of Muhammad upon your sacred earth.
You are the beloved of three faiths.
Yet, how can love breed such hatred?
You are the beautiful enchantress,
For whom the whole town
Wages war against itself.