by H. Gibrain
for Fidaa

I am not afraid of your guns
I know they are only loaded with flowers
aim them at me and fire away

those tear gas canisters are loaded
with the saline suffering of your ancestors
give them to me, I will heal them

your check points I know
they are there to protect me from myself
lest I lose my mind and forget how to love like you did

your warships and missiles
have killed my sweet child and proud father
now you are safe poor thing go back to your hate bubble

and laugh and sing and dance while you can
when you wake up your dream will be more than you can bear
you will turn to stone then crumble to dust
and I will sweep up after you