For Gaza

I want the stink of freedom on you

I want joyous sweat dampening your skin

I want a rhythmic and flamboyant snore erupting from your mouth

I want your mother’s belly and breast to rise and fall with the spell of a mostly promised tomorrow.

It takes peace to sleep like this.

I wish you dirt from the land that remembers you back under your nails

And in the fine lines of your palms

I wish you the sticky sweet mouth of satisfaction

I wish you fresh water to clean it with

I want you to enjoy the things your ancestors fought for

And the things beyond deserving

I want you to whistle a song in the street that skips the wet pools of lamplight at night

Because

You must be happy to whistle

You must have air to whistle

You must have a song

And you must be free

So i wish you air

I wish you a song

I wish you happiness

I wish you freedom

I wish you air to whistle the resounding sound of freedom

May you know the peace of victory

May you enjoy the ripe fragrance of your harvest

I see your face in the future

I hear your whistle

And I smell your sweet odor of freedom

And so it is

Please visit our main page to see the Still Here SF organizational response and directory of responses.