Friday, 30 January 2009

CHILD IN GAZA, after Wm Blake

I was a little child,

born in Gaza ruins.

My name was Palestinian

and my heart was strong.

On the Israeli green

the little children played.

I asked to share the play.

But they sent back fire.

Why did they send white fire

which melted away my flesh?

They said it was the gift

my jealousy deserved.

Why did they burn me so?

In white bandages I die,

in a hospital like a ruin.

Remember, what I know.

1 comment:

dcdc said...

Great to see this thriving.
Impressive array of your work here that deserves widest audience.
You're right:dispossession can never be a noble cause- and getting worse after 60 years. We should challenge Israel to prove it has any peace plans.
See my blog also on home page of
Slan DC