There is a light
that flickers violently
in the Middle East.
On this, the darkest
and longest of nights,
what has not been razed
in Gaza gives shelter:
a wind-whipped tent
among tents, a hospital
corridor, the burned-out
shell of an Orthodox church
where Christ, new-borne,
will lie among the rubble.
Soon a blast mistaken
for God's own voice joins
with the cries of children,
the silencing wails of women.
Snow is falling in Gaza,
and somewhere there
is a light that flickers,
land within sight.
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