A man crosses the street in rain,
stepping gently, looking two times north and south,
because his son is asleep on his shoulder.

No car must splash him.
No car drive too near to his shadow.

This man carries the world’s most sensitive cargo
but he’s not marked.
Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,
HANDLE WITH CARE.

His ear fills up with breathing.
He hears the hum of a boy’s dream
deep inside him.

We’re not going to be able
to live in this world
if we’re not willing to do what he’s doing
with one another.

The road will only be wide.
The rain will never stop falling.

And another day in Gaza 
Another day in Palestine
A day in prison 
And we live on
Despite Israel’s very much identified flying objects 
That we see more than our family and friends
And despite Israel’s death sentences
Like lead
Cast upon the head
As we sleep
Like acid rain
Gnawing at our life
Clinging to it like a flea to a kitten
And stuffed in our throats
The moment we say “Amen”
To the prayers of old women and men 
Despite Israel’s birds of death
Hovering only two meters from our breath
From our dreams and prayers
Blocking their ways to God.
Despite that. 
We dream and pray, 
Clinging to life even harder
Every time a dear one’s life 
Is forcibly rooted up. 
We live. 
We live. 
We do. 

^{May 27, 2012}

'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,
Taught my benighted soul to understand
That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too:
Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.
Some view our sable race with scornful eye,
"Their colour is a diabolic die."
Remember, Christians, Negros, black as Cain,
May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.