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:
Hi JK
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 www.criticaldifference.co.uk
Slan DC
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