Palestine

Tear gas bombs exploding over kitchen

table. Pulsing vein in my head.

Sitting with a friend in West Oakland.

We talk about her trip

to Palestine, she stops talking, her eyes

glaze over, shows me the pictures of death.

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day. It’s a new life. 

Innumerable holes in buildings

children play in the front –

her talking is scattered –

I see the tear gas canisters

exploding above her head

hear their firecracker whisper

smell the burning bodies

the black lost vision.

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day. It’s a new life.

I see the laughter of the Israeli soldiers

hear the screams of the moms and babies

separated. I see a Palestinian woman

head held low walking courageously alone

to buy groceries for dinner.

I see breaking bread.

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day. It’s a new life.