Children of Palestine

When death is your constant companion,

You learn to look fear in the eyes, and

Know that destiny cannot be controlled

In Palestine, only imagined, only coddled

Gently in dreams, stirred in deep whispers

And rocked in the tired arms of grief, as

Something precious and possible, even if

You do not live to see it. This is the hope

Which enables the persecuted and abused

To survive anything; which croons in deep

Tones, through days of blood and terror, and

Through nights of dark, unforgiving horrors,

Across generations, in those lands beyond

The known world, where anything is possible

And sanctuary beckons because evil cannot

Win always and because the dried throat of

Justice remains open, ready to speak, when

There are enough of those who can hear. And

You have learned enough to know that death

Is the least of your worries, for life brings far

Greater suffering and pain, making death a

Welcome friend, should it tell you it is time

To go home; to be free in a way long denied

To the children of ancient, bleeding Palestine.