Gaza

a poem about palestine

I can't predict the future,  but I can retell the past.

Burning, killing, pretending to have moral direction,

people falling brutally like olive trees.

when it comes to peace, they are incredulous unholy beasts

running to the sound of war no one wanted, that some survive

And some will tell the story, and predict their future

some will only remain in the past,

their stories, their lives, their futures told

in search of understanding, in hopes of demanding

freedom for all