What Do Palestinians Want?
A man in the Lake District, England, asked me ………..
The pleasure of tending, tending
something that will not be taken away.
A family, a tree, growing for so long,
finally fruiting olives, the benevolence of
branch,
and not to find a chopped trunk upon
return.
Confidence in a threshold. A little green.
And quite a modest green untouched by
drama.
Or a mound of calico coverlets stuffed with
wool,
from one’s own sheep, piled in a cupboard.
To find them still piled. Is that too much?
Not to dominate. Never to say we are the
only people who count,
or to be the only victims,
the chosen, more holy or precious.
No. Just to be ones who matter
as much as any other, in a common way, as
you might prefer.
Stones and books and daily freedom.
A little neighborly respect.
Naomi Shihab Nye
Voices in the Air - Poems for Listeners
Sist sett
