I am just one breath from a thousand voices
19 November 2023

I am the vestige of a fake sermon
the redeemer of a so-called vermin
the fate of which they will determine
heads or tails, palms would examine

I am a slowly revived olive tree
My gentle farmers rekindle me
their dreams of liquid green honey
set in their dead eyes that no longer see

My fruit hangs on the West Bank
where every corner smells death dank
metal on their heads lands with a clank
they think my keepers they outrank

I am a call for prayer in their lost homes
to Jerusalem, Rome and all those golden domes
The mind of each in inner turmoil roams
as fire every inch of their land combs

I am just one breath from a thousand voices
seeping through clenched teeth’s brittle noises
exhaled from tight chests pressed in dead choices
while inhuman armada in kids’ blood rejoices

Reading of the poem:

Law Of The Thr3e - From womb to tomb