children of Palestine

Children in Palestine He sat down to write a poem for nature When he closed his eyes saw, bombed-out buildings Rain dripping from wrecked concrete onto The street, a muddy pool, but that didn`t stop the children from playing captains of the deep sea Another bomb fell and obliterated this harsh idyll What was left was mist and fire where it once had been A muddy puddle. His pleasant poem about a track and olive roots trying To trip him up, the shepherd, his dog, and the sheep coming His way the good small of wool like an obscenity today did little to stop his fear for the future.