Thursday, 28 January 2010

The Road to Jaffa

The road sings to me
The mountains are chasing me
Bound by land that has been flattened,
Are people who haven't seen the sea.

The sea turns twice
On the belly of her mother
Takes whispers from the wind
Watches shadows grow and sink
Turns into a demon when the clouds rage
Then returns to the shore
To kiss your feet.

With these feet, I'll walk
To singing children, oranges,
Unreal tomatoes and fake bread
To pieces of outdated paper that
mean nothing.

Beyond the green, barbed wires
Landmines, tanks, half footprints,
Olive trees without branches,
Masked men, martyrs,
Rivers of blood and crying women
Broken bricks, powder and white ghosts, to find

A road that cries to me
Headless mountains that are facing me.
And bound by walls that have been raised,
Are people who can feel the sea.

The people sleep at the feet
of the earth.
Dance in the dying rain, in homes
Where no ceiling remains.
Lie awake at night when
The sky cracks open.

They are caught in this city
And in it's veins.

In a violent heart.

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