A crime against humanity my ancestors never asked for.
The bells are ringing, warning in his ears, rockets, a pink cloud of fire. Tonight is the night he thinks. I can’t die yet.
Dust clouds thick here for days on end. Never stops. All we want is a savoury manouché, kick around the ball, dabke till sunset and the moon rises high.
But the sirens are all around, bells ringing in his ears.
As he voice messages his friend
“I’m ok, jan. I’m ok.
Tell me about you.
What are you up to?”
I have not done any analyses and have yet to motivate myself to something other than sit around. But I have contact with friends and this is an inspiration from what a friend in Palestine asked me two weeks ago, as I was in a Zoom meeting for this poetry event I attend.