looked familiar to me,
Probably because
I had seen them in another life,
But like all things
I passed away.
What happens when the earth trembles,
When there is no more fruit
On the trees?
Turning your face softly, you heard…
The doctors sighing,
The amputees trying,
And the poets dying…
A meal eaten,
A rock to pick up
And throw—a rock
Of wishes, a rock of hunger,
Aspiration and longing, propelled
With a stinging accuracy
By the fierce song
In your heart
As you cherished them all and felt…
The thieves taking,
The dispossessed aching,
And the politicians faking…
The shape of a football with grimacing lips.
So look to that place
Where the astral twinklings
Romp and play—noticeable tinges
Of color sprouting into flowers,
Puffing into nothingness,
And lo and behold
Blooming into flowers again.
And from here you tasted…
The farmers hoeing
The proud crowing
And the mystics knowing…
To the children, a ship
Trailing its wind
On a sea of
Tangerine and gold
Toward he whom the earth
Fears and loves, as,
With an inimitable patience,
You raised that flower-pointed
Arrow—your eyes of love—and saw…
The vines twining…
The petals falling…
And the dove calling out…
River to Sea Uprooted Palestinian
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