Gaza, the last thing you need is a poem. Don’t say!
I have nothing else to give. A poem is a poem…what can it do? Don’t say!
But simply be like a poem.
You were an open land, and
your sea was no sight
for blood. Yes, once upon a time,
you asked nothing
of the world,
and it gave you
Gather our words and toss them into
the empty well.
Screams don’t linger, but they do not
They lodge themselves
beyond the ear,
and once they begin to haunt
they appear, they
Corrupted by the attempt to apply logic
to the wound. We are all talk
We all know, that talk is talk
that’s why no one
Reality wounds can’t be mended by
thoughts. We all know—
Don’t keep me in your prayers, and please
spare me the guilt.
Where can the eye rest on the sight –
I want my words to spill blood and when I say
that once upon a time…
I want you to cringe
because this land has only one name—
and its people are only
Call them what you may, that doesn’t change a thing—they too disappear
and they too will reappear—
Once upon a time, Gaza,
there was no need for anyone to give you any
empty words, like this poem. Your only hope
is to look us straight in the eye, and say once more, that you were,
and are, once upon a time.