The Sun Dial – A Poem
'Every day a new row; how many fields; how many trees ..' By Lise Brouillette
A field blasted
in the middle a tree
the last one standing
casting a shadow still
At every hour of the day
another grave it will
highlight by its darkening
grant it its daily
60 minutes of glory
Listen to the singer
listen to the poet
they act as so many seers
giving a voice to those
who can no longer speak :
"We are the poor and the once rich
the dispossessed, the displaced
the killed and the maimed
don't think that the dead
are gone forever
For they live through the will
of those who remain
and their memory
replace the missing limbs, fills
the holes in the heart"
And more importantly
they stay
in the ground forever
the very same one
that is being stolen
a little more taken
every day
they stay
and they stay
and they stay
they never leave
A field blasted
in the middle a tree
every hour of the day
shadows another grave
the line of shadow timing
yet another grieving
Every day a new row
how many fields
how many trees
dead trees guarding
ever a bigger wheel
until he stolen land
is one big deathly field
The wanted peace at last
high-jacking the past
and mortgaging the future.
- Lise Brouillette contributed this poem to PalestineChronicle.com.
