Gaza

Poor, commiserate soil
Empty, impotent dirt
From which nothing can grow
Beaten and crushed
Treaded upon
Frozen solid, but there’s no snow
Stuck, instead, in time
In a past it’s impossible to know
One lush with life
But no love
But happy nonetheless
Full of sound
And lightness
And beauty
Things treading lightly
Unaware of the damage they cannot cause
But now nothing will sprout
Put away the watering can
Pull the seeds out
Wall off the ground
Fill it
And pull out
But this land bears scars
From you
From them
From where you tread
Unaware of the damage you cannot undo
100 centuries of kindness
Cannot unmake
All of the poison
You sowed in place of hate
So fight
Fight now
Fight on
Fight forever
But remember the Thrush
Flipping along
Soaring through a sunset
Its plumage flushed
And remember the deer
With their mouths in the undergrowth
And hoofs in the soil
And the shearwater
Stuck firm in its dive
And all the other things
That existed before your claims
And your strife
And your god
And theirs too
And your walls
And your signs
And your books
That existed, somewhere, in the beginning
With the land
Before you came marching along
All your heads in the sand
Unable to realize that what you tread upon
Was no-one’s in the first place
Along with everything, too
But one day
It’ll all disappear
Like a Nightingale from an open cage
And you’ll be there with your land
Unable to pick the fruit it bears
Stuck, eternally, in the place you stole your home
Unable to pass through the eye of a needle
Much less leave
Or let yourself be gone