What could red velvet boxes bows and crinkly cellophane mean to you, Palestine now that the saturation bombing phase has become the starvation and depravation phase. And hearts? They are becoming like an endangered species, the word "love" a rebel dodging the algorithms of commerce efficiency, sheen and detachment. Maybe I should write "forgive us" on a tiny scroll, roll it up and tie it around the leg of a dove or sparrow, any winged courage flying in behind the food drops. Maybe it will land somewhere-- the crumpled parapet of an exploded building, a window ledge in an overcrowded hospital, atop a tent where a widow tends her one remaining child-- and sing.
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I think you just wrote “forgive us” on a tiny scroll. 💚
In order for me to write poetry that isn’t political
I must listen to the birds
and in order to hear the birds
the warplanes must be silent.
~ Marwān Makhkhūl