How do we Mourn without a
Language to name our Dead?
Do we mourn first the Land or the Bodies
Ensnared by its brief promise of Home?
Imagine the absence of border as
All the Ghosts we fail to contain …
Inside every Heaven there is an
Earth we’ve mourned the Loss of—
Every heaven is a Palestine we cannot Inherit—
I’m searching for a construct of Paradise that has
No Borders, no Bodies displaced thereof.
Let my words, instead of endless litany,
Be an Index, Unhinging the Foundations
Of every category and name forced upon us!
Poetry should Terrify Politicians—
Especially the American ones!
From Sea to Shining Sea—
Earth to Blood-fed Earth.
Lines from George Abraham, Birthright