jerusalem.
where the shuks are never quiet.
they bustle with a life of their own,
mountains of sunset stained spices
drowning the senses
colors dripping from the ceiling.
in israel
the museums are never loud.
they shroud too many ghosts
and I unravel,
though I promised myself I would not.
because german soldiers
searched jews at the gate
and opened the door for everyone else.
because soldiers drew lines in the street
where jews could walk
and on the other side,     everyone else.
because after the slaughter
they ran through the streets
like they were playing god.

how could anyone do this
to another human being –
for the way they hold faith,
sweetly in the mouth
I start to know myself
child
of grotesque
silence.

who excused the executioner
who watched, and said nothing.
the world knows this story
and the israeli tour guides will tell you:
we must never let
an oppression of a people happen again
this,
is our responsibility.

gaza.
where the souqs are never quiet.
they bustle with a life of their own,
mountains of sunset stained spices
drowning the senses
colors dripping from the ceiling.
in palestine
the grey wall is never loud.
it shrouds too many ghosts
and I unravel,
although I promise myself I will not.
because israeli soldiers
search palestinians at the gate
and open the door for everyone else.
because soldiers draw lines in the street
where palestinians can walk
and on the other side, everyone else.
because the slaughter continues
they run through the streets
like they are playing god.

how can anyone do this,
to another human being –
for the way they hold faith
sweetly in the mouth
I start to know myself
child
of grotesque
silence.

who excuses the executioner
who watches, and says nothing.
the world must know this story
but no one will tell you:
we have let
the oppression of a people happen again
this,
is our responsibility.