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Hand of War

We hold war’s hand,
not so that it walks among us,
but it is death,
a bit tardy, we cajole it.

We hold war’s hand,
convinced that this is the last time
it waves catastrophe to us,
since the road is a futile wall,

and the country is searching
for a photograph
of collective sorrow.

                                        —Gaza

 

Read more from our series by Palestinian poets.