Thursday, November 23, 2023

Uprootings (Poem)


Ungloved hands once plucked ripe olives,
Palestinian symbol of resilience and pride.
They harvest now no more than branch
and bone, sprayed hectares amid grove fires.
In Khan Younis, beyond the border fence,
no one dances dabka. In Nablus, a farmer
hugs her tree, and cries; another watches,
his grape vines crushed, his fingers broken.
A city center's oil spills. A boy's toy
plane soars from a concrete balcony
just seconds before the blast
of a white phosphorus bomb.
Love of the land, for the land:
even the natural history of the soil
is denied, crops confined behind iron
gates, earth mounds, secure checkpoints.

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