By Darren Stein
There is no hiding from the screams of a child,
Baby forms shredded by shrapnel,
Little bodies broken by bricks;
It makes me sick to look upon, ashamed as
both a human being and a Jew; the tortured
anguish of my conflict of loyalty and identity;
Yet, I owe my integrity first to my humanity,
and then only to my tribe.
I must weep for blood that is not my own.
– Darren Stein’s most recent work has been published in Poetica, Pearson Education, The Journal of Microliterature, Rangitawa Press, Twelve Winters Press, HeadSpace and others. His second volume of poetry, The Nut House Poems, will be published by Red Dashboard Publications in 2015. He contributed this poem to PalestineChronicle.com.