[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] war_poetry
Unto US this child is born

Last night I had this visionary dream;
I stood then trod on lonely, broken land -
I mean heart-broken. Something made it seem
This land was human. Lonely, frightened and
Abandoned. Just like me? No. By my feet
A naked baby lay, pale as a sheet
Of phosphor. Not the grandson that's now mine -
He's safe. He wasn't born in Palestine.

A voice inside said:"Jesus and . . . each child
Who's born for Zion's torture." Loud and wild
The land was now. The air now full of stones
Cast from the sky by unmanned, brutal drones.
I woke up sweating, knowing I must tell
The truth: of genocide by Israel.

By Felicity Currie

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War Poetry

January 2017

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