Monday, March 08, 2010

Next year in Al-Quds


Though we ourselves lack food,
we treat our guests as all men should,
sprinkle crimson petals at their feet,
singing
next year in Al-Quds.

We raise our young
to distinguish evil from good,
that all the stars are ours,
singing
next year in Al-Quds.

Reliving
lost childhoods,
grey men laughing,
singing
next year in Al-Quds.

Dancing
where winding walls once stood,
young men rising,
singing
next year in Al-Quds.

Fleeing
hawk dark woods,
doves winging,
singing
next year in Al-Quds.

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