By William James Martin
Where are the Israeli poets?
Those who would search their dreams
For memories lost or
Those who would look inward
To see the archetypes of shadows
In the night
Or who would search the rocky landscape of the mind
To see those whom they have chased away
Where are those who would survey the scrubgrass
And the pales horse
And the winter moon
And the olive trees
Planted a thousand new suns ago
By those who are no longer
But whose sweat lingers in the soil
Are there no Israeli poets?
Are they afraid?
Of looking inward
On a barren moonlit landscape
While wandering the winding paths
Stepping on rubble on ancient villages
Which are no longer
But villages whose souls still weep
For the familiar voices
They may sometimes hear
In the distance
When the wind is right
– William James Martin contributed this article to PalestineChronicle.com. Contact him at: email@example.com.