Palestinian Campfire in Freedom's Night
By Genevieve Cora Fraser
Bruised flesh, battered minds
Cast in the glow of an exile's campfire
The rubble existence of the freshly homeless
Made Bedouin cast to the night
Bulldozed fright in a child's eyes
Pleading to go home
A campfire journey
Lost in thought a man sits
Beyond indignation
Past resignation
Incensed
Across the fence
A messianic fervor entitled
Beats the drum for a triumphal
Entry to the land promised
Not by G-d but by Zionist
Messenger
Tribal camps dot the landscape
Await the verdict of the world
The first shall be
Last shall be lost
In the outcome steeped in shame
What gains the world if lost the soul?
The word was made flesh
And dwelt among the rubble
In Palestine the angels came
And dwelt within the ghosted
Olive orchards
(Zionist word
Un-sacred
Is voiced in lies)
A child was born and dwelt among them
By the campfire exiled
Under the night sky's canopy
A shining star guided the way
Home to Palestine shrunken
Shrinking, a speck of its former self
Yet living
He dwelt among them in their darkest hour
Pin-pricked with stars
He knew them as His own
In the barnyard beginning of belief
He dwelt in Peace
Sharon is shrunken
Is shrinking
His triumphal entry
Melting into the mist
Of wishful thinking
Palestine
Is beyond his grasp
A glowing ember
To light the world