A Prayer for Poetry

A Prayer for Poetry Our ears are closed made deaf by greater powers the ones who believe Palestine offers us no art its people have no right to share in our world writers cannot bloom among the falling bombs blood and shattered bones are not the soil they need phones no longer ring and paper can’t be found poets write inside the lids of their eyes hum verses to themselves to drown the noise of guns each one holds a prayer their death will be clean but through the dust the crash of falling homes art will find its breath reach for the light and shout spread vibrant leaves above the rubble of today.