(from the remains of Gaza)
I see the trees with leaves of grey
The dust blown streets, the rubbled way.
And down the road a rubbled man
with dusted face approaches.
And through the grey, streaks a golden skin
Washed by rivulets of pain.
And as he passes by he smiles
The saddest smile I ever saw
I nod to say I understand. And yet, I don’t,
I can’t. I only read the news
I was not there.
To see is not to understand.
Oh come the rain to wash away
The gray. Bring back the green,
The gold. Dispel forlorn
Spring up new seeds of hope.
Is it fruitless to aspire?
Is it better to despair?
Is it fair to judge?
If you were not there?
These days will pass. A thousand years
And none will know of abject tears
The green will grow atop these stones
These bricks of long forgotten homes
And will these folk forget their past?
And in that loss find peace at last,
Or will they carry in their heart
The hate that tore them all apart.