Postcript From Palestine

Dust descending fills my ears and nose: small stones loosened from the soft rock bleed our faces and our arms...... the smell of this cellar the drought of this cellar the echoing sound of this cellar the rumble of this cellar the body that lies in our arms Why are we smothered like rats in this pothole lying in the dark, shaken with fear teeth trembling on the volcano? We have no light in our darkness no light in our cities only the fire from the bombs of our neighbours. They have flattened our power, our water, our sewage the roads that bring food to the market the exit of refugees these bombs of out neighbours. the smell of this cellar the drought of this cellar the echoing sounds of this cellar the rumbling of thunder in this cellar the body that lies in our arms They bomb us on the beaches for democratic decisions. They have a hundred of rockets, American planes,helicopters and radar to our small retaliation the smell of this cellar the drought of this cellar the echoing sounds of this cellar the rumbling of thunder in this cellar the body that lies in our arms For one prisoner we have lost the power station, our light, our lives, our peace; death comes to mothers and children on the beaches, the schools, the market place traumatised, maimed they kill us. They will not overturn our decision- it stands. Dear Mother, I would come to you we have no aerodrome- here or in Lebanon. Your grandchildren I would bring to you I would come from my democratic country only for them but I am stuck in the shower of dirt in this cellar.