It's Friday the thirteenth
again. I stay at home
due to circumstances:

a dragging wind
and storming sirens
The cameras break

taboos and peek
into windowless sleeping
rooms, front pieces

after the wind of roughskirts
who celebrate their gains
in stinking silence. I close

the curtains, my eyes and mouth
I'm not here, hello hello
don't you see I'm not here

and I can do nothing about it -
absent due to circumstances
which I can do nothing about

Once there was prosperity here
thriving trade, the coast a ribbon
of harbours full of ships

the land of the Philistines
now suffocated, enclosed
by the ghetto

There are Summer Rains
breaking our bones, the roads
and bridges, the quays and offices

The roofs of the schools
devastated, sewers shooting out
Smell where we live

Do not stand there
safe far away on the ramparts
of your paradise, watching

the fire and the iron
from heaven
Not ours

And after the rains appear
at night on the horizon
Autumn Clouds

Believing in a new world
for our children's children
and able to wait a long time

making plans
for the divine time
which now begins, with plan A, B, C

and D for Door
to the future
of a Holy Land

with reinforced concrete
and faits accomplis
house by house

field after field, well after well
plundered, contaminated or closed
military area, the dogs loose

at children herding goats
children going to school
children of blind and crippled people
children without parents
children who shouldn't be here