The washed shutters in pearl blues
Stand half-open revealing eyes of
Its holder: a house built from stone
Sitting high on four pillars upon
The edge of an ageless Semitic hill.
Empty, empty, they are all gone.
Everything was found intact,
Even the dishes left in the rack.
Did they really hope to come back?
What prophecies did they believe?
Oh those poor children, how they were
Their intended victims were not.
Their conscience only now begins to bleed
In hate against those dreams which were
Promised but never came
What is truth?
Only a different lie for you
Than it is for me.
What is an Arab?
What is a Jew?
Only brothers who have been torn in two.
Their father was Abraham,
Not the Muslim, not the Jew!
And now empty houses with window shutters
Painted for Allahs eyes alone, await patiently,
Wait to the wars are over
And the final judgments have been made.
Magog and Gog are knocking upon their
We are all refugees.