We have an address: Gaza, Palestine 20XX!
We never counted, did you know?
you or me, in this hollow calculus or that,
as you have always known, dreamt and heard,
from us, from their shallow words and
from their unholy chant,
nothing is or can be yours, ours,
only theirs, may be even less,
than a broken chant.
Redacted, then recalled to be celebrated,
like an endangered species,
not belonging to this place, this time,
or this blurred, surreal count.
Have they run out of apologetics, you think?
Pundits and skeptics,
who know how to count,
spell, fake, and then shout,
words which are not theirs,
through air which it can barely care,
and with breaths stolen from you,
from us, from that frozen stare,
from your future, from this unmistakable
and done glare.
I know you were, as you will be, there.
You shall emerge,
from this abyss, this surreal down,
who else can?
With a new beginning, a new everything,
and no less, and no plan.
You shall emerge,
carrying this soul, this thing,
that’s us, all of us, as we like to stand,
with all that we had managed to drag along,
from 19XX, and everything else, strong,
to be here, there, and in between.
You shall emerge,
I know, as the heavens, our sun, even this place,
uncounted they shall surge…seen or unseen.
