Have I Had Two Roads, I Would

For The Arabs In Israel There Is Always A Tension Between Nationality And Identity.

I See What I Want Of Love... I See Horses Making The Meadow Dance, Fifty Guitars Sighing, And A Swarm Of Bees Suckling The Wild Berries, And I Close My Eyes Until I See Our Shadow Behind This Dispossessed Place... I See What I Want Of People: Their Desire To Long For Anything, Their Lateness In Getting To Work And Their Hurry To Return To Their Folk... And Their Need To Say: Good Morning.

We Suffer From An Incurable Malady: Hope.

The Poem Is In My Hands, And Can Run Stories Through Her Hands.

Against Barbarity, Poetry Can Resist Only By Confirming Its Attachment To Human Fragility Like A Blade Of Grass Growing On A Wall While Armies March By.