Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Me, a Rock in Hand

Sweaty palms
In the fatal grip of a child
A jagged rock in hand
Me, a rock in the hand of a five year old Palestinian boy
I am not a pebble
Nor a stone
But a heavy rock in the hand of a child
I am being released from this fatality and pain
And I soar in the sky toward hazardous tanks and
And soldiers with guns
I am a rock in the hand of a boy who wants his father back
But cannot have him because he is
Eight feet under
A rock in the hand of a Palestinian man who wants his brother back
But cannot have him because his life was taken from him by the bullet of the enemy
I am a rock in a grip so tight I feel as though my minerals are chipping
A young boy so eager to get his home land back
In his mind he is tripping
And his father who went out for a "walk" one day goes missing
And his daughter at home wants him to come home so she
Keeps wishing
While her mother is in the living room
And crying while she's reminiscing
Me, a rock in hand
I am a rock who aims at the white bird that ceases
To cease
The peace between two nations
I am a rock whose aim is to end the pain and suffering in the every day life of the Palestinians