.
Wouldn’t I wish to be a floor-tile in one of your alleyways
A step for an antique pine door in one of your villages
Trampled upon by the dusty feet of your heroes
Wouldn’t I wish my cheeks to be soiled by the muddy shoes of your little ones
Stroked by the perfumed dresses of your dignified daughters, scented by
yearning and adoration of the missed ones
Caressing my chronic time-defying wound
Picking up my limbs, scattered all over
Whispering a lullaby to my tear-filled heart, might it get a fragment of a snooze
Restoring some tranquility to a soul anguished by separation
Some sanity, some calm, some peace
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Poetry for Palestine 