Night Labor, for Rachel Corrie

Night Labor by Michael R. Burch for Rachel Corrie Tonight we keep the flame alive; we keep the candle lit. We burn bright incense in your name and swear we’ll not forget— your innocence, your courage, your commitment—till bleak night surrenders to irrevocable dawn and hate yields to love’s light. Amen. These are poems about Palestinian children and their mothers... Epitaph for a Palestinian Child by Michael R. Burch I lived as best I could, and then I died. Be careful where you step: the grave is wide. Epitaph for a Palestinian Girl by Michael R. Burch Find in her pallid, dread repose, no hope, alas!, for a human Rose. who, US? by Michael R. Burch jesus was born a palestinian child where there’s no Room for the meek and the mild and in bethlehem still to this day, lambs are born to cries of “no Room!” and Puritanical scorn under Herod, Trump, Bibi their fates are the same— the slouching Beast mauls them and WE have no shame: “who’s to blame?” Frail Envelope of Flesh by Michael R. Burch for the mothers and children of Gaza Frail envelope of flesh, lying cold on the surgeon’s table with anguished eyes like your mother’s eyes and a heartbeat weak, unstable… Frail crucible of dust, brief flower come to this— your tiny hand in your mother’s hand for a last bewildered kiss… Brief mayfly of a child, to live two artless years! Now your mother’s lips seal up your lips from the Deluge of her tears… For a Palestinian Child, with Butterflies by Michael R. Burch Where does the butterfly go when lightning rails when thunder howls when hailstones scream when winter scowls when nights compound dark frosts with snow where does the butterfly go? Where does the rose hide its bloom when night descends oblique and chill, beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill? When the only relief’s a banked fire’s glow, where does the butterfly go? And where shall the spirit flee when life is harsh, too harsh to face, and hope is lost without a trace? Oh, when the light of life runs low, where does the butterfly go? Well, Almost by Michael R. Burch Jews and Christians say “Never again!” to the inhumanity of men (except when the object of phlegm is a Palestinian). I, too, have a dream… by Michael R. Burch I, too, have a dream… that one day Jews and Christians will see me as I am: a small child, lonely and afraid, staring down the barrels of their big bazookas, knowing I did nothing to deserve such scorn. Keywords/Tag: Palestinian, Palestine, Gaza