Under the Rubble

on front lines fighting
once again
their cruelty spills
my blood, and then
a new life shatters
at dawn’s first light
we couldn’t sway
death’s chosen sight
I turn my back
but can’t unsee
and stumble off
on boney knees
then sink, I gasp
and scratch and scream
while they walk away
for breaks, and tea
the slaughtered kin
and missing limbs
contrast with well-fed
fat and thin
for they can leave
and return anew
but those who can’t,
a ridge-worn screw
with war-stripped slots
in dusty air
sink ever deeper
in dark despair
wear ash and torn
of cloth and rain
on concrete beds
and deaths that stain
another day
then next, again
is all we live
and all we spend
to stop and pray
for heavens gift
a clear blue sky
and bombs that miss
so speak up now
your voices, all
from privilege born
to masses call
please hear our plea
for freedom’s dove
as we wonder why
we’re not worth their love?
how can they watch
our children die
and cheer their death
while mothers cry
then roundup fathers
and parade them bare
as the powerful deem
our slaughter fair
is this our lot?
is this their right?
to cleanse us into
that long goodnight
if we must go
before we do
I beg the world
to protect a few
so they may tell
our story long
after these ancestors
are dead and gone
let them say
that while we fought
we also lived
in the graves you wrought
a siren wails
so I must go
it’s my time now
to meet the doe
of heaven’s guide
I can’t be late
I’ve known since birth
I’d meet this fate
to you I ask
if I may request
I beg you guard
the sun bird’s nest
as I face my grave
and speak my last lines
I die with this love
remember Palestine

By Jay