My Enemy's Children
A poem for the children of Israel and Palestine
Little bird, in the morning tide of light,
What do you see in your twitching perch up there?
This massive undoing of rock and refuge,
All song drained from the air.
Little bird, your colors timid and bones so slight,
How tall you seem amid all that's now broken.
Our scholars speechless, in dust we dream
Of lullaby for what has been woken.
Little bird, if you must fly away, your shifting
Feet too nervous to stay, do not take
The easy winds. Float instead on this my prayer,
Follow it across the livid warscape.
Little bird, as you fly, avoid the bitter smoke
And what rage has scratched on the wall.
Fill your lungs with the gossamer sweetness
Of this new day, of G-d's fresh waterfall.
Then, little bird, on reaching the other side:
Sing. Sing of fizzing waves, and misted hills,
And speckled midnights, and sway in the harvest,
And dawn-glazed flamingoes dipping their bills.
Little bird, though you may go unheard, do not stop.
With your notes of the world as it still might be,
Embroider their dreams, asleep or awake,
Describe my longing love with your melody.
Sing, little bird. Sing.
Sing to my enemy's children.
- ZMB
Notes from Zoe Marie Bel
It is my belief that most Israelis and most Palestinians do not want to be "enemies" or for atrocities to befall each other's children. I wrote this poem because birds can move between worlds and express themselves there with an ease that humans cannot. So here I send out a bird, both literally in the lines of this poem and figuratively in the act of writing them, to say what I really, really wish were being said more loudly throughout this conflict. I wish for Palestine's children everything I wish for my own.
Want to reproduce this poem somewhere else?
Please contact me first. I generally support the sharing of poetry, so chances are good I'll be receptive to your idea.