Monday Morning, Palestine
Hauling backbacks bigger than they are
Poke one another and laugh
As they climb a steep hill to schools in the square.
Their chatter is the murmuring of a mountain stream,
Reversing course, surging uphill.
Their laughter is everything laughter should be:
Holy, and unknowing, and searching out happiness.
It's a new day, and a new week,
And why shouldn't they be happy?
The music of their futures is like another call to prayer
In this place where the calls come
Early, often, lingering in the still hot sun.
God is great. God is great.
How, though, can children learn multiplication tables
In the crazed desolation of a 21st century genocide?
How can they learn a second language when
All around them the world of nations
Has turned its many backs on their existence?
How can they sit to paint the landscape of the hills,
When, in their mind's eye,
So many gardens, so many groves
And so many green hills burn?
But these are my questions, two flights up,
And not theirs.
God is great. God is great.
I stand at the window a long time, listening:
Up and up they climb, laughing, kicking a ball,
"Woof, woofing" at a stray dog who woofs right back.
My heart breaks for them, but perhaps theirs
Are not yet broken;
Perhaps they will dance at school today,
And learn their multiplication tables,
And learn languages unknown.
Perhaps they will stand before a window open
To the not yet holy but (once and always) beloved land
And paint colors and feelings
And a love which will end this madness.
God is great. God is great.
19 May 2025
DGJ
Bethlehem, Palestine
 |
| Annexation Wall, Bethlehem Side |
