for Palestine: The tears of Olives …






Trickling down shrapnelled flesh,

tears fall,


like

blood

on

bloodied

cheek.


In the sun,


lifeless bodies

lie cold as stone,

the tears of olives 

flow,


salty sentinels

of memory:

pain,

suffering,

occupation,

hunger,

the tears of olives

perennially streak,


etching pathways of dust,

between alleyways of desolation,


hopelessly bleak.


The slaughter continues,

as more dead bodies,


rot,

reek.


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