Pomegranates

I swear life is beautiful
without the sound of Israeli drones,

Can you hear?

but the earth sits quiet,
birds and olive trees
squat, dodge, hunker

Death is an unmovable state unlike rubble
or ruins.
The ground crouches, trembles
leaps into our arms with naked fear
like a child covered in the dust
that only soldiers deliver.

Who would have thought the earth and we would
break together into so many pieces and still become.
I swear life is beautiful without
Israeli planes axing
the edges of the sky,
leaving the heaviest most fatal part
of the colourless blue to befriend us.
I stand in these open
spaces where the houses were forced
to collapse, to fold its furniture
without care, leaving their inhabitants
between the cracks
But the torn wood and the shuttered mirrors speak
and will testify. 
They call our belonging upheaval,
 listen!

if there are dark shadows under my eyes
I will tell you the sun
have been crippled,
the clouds have set
stubbornly, but our memory
still lingers like the taste of
pomegranate.

Can you Hear?
The drones