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.
Copyright © Terry Vannecksurplice | Year Posted 2014
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