I. 

the single leaf’d blade of grass seeding in the face of piled limestone tears itself tall, from darkness rising  

the screams of a plastic bag half-pinned in a heap of trash  

violently, tirelessly thrashing  

the demand of a machine gun’d soldier’s hand reaching outward upright and flat, imposing 

the jagged stone’s pitch plots its trajectory  

dripping, spilling over children’s fists 

the road in random asphalt chunks bids no passage by its destructive wake  barricading bodies, stranding us in… 

II. 

the lone olive tree’d hill rooted in hot loose sand  

stands in offense to the wind, sweating 

the rubber tire’s burning inferno rolls flame, end over end  

reflecting stars, for moon’s past reaching 

the echoed whimpers of children martyred, walking souls 

memories suspended, voices muting 

the shrouded bodies stack, piling up, spilling over 

the wall grows organic as trees with stone roots and barbed-wire tops barricading bodies, stranding us in… 

III. 

the office window’s glare forces eyes to squint  

as saddened silence ladens a tongue’s unscreaming, my heart’s deafening lament  

the smile’s forced faining fabrication poisons normality 

not unseeing, unhearing, nor uncrying 

a witness to piled limestone, fragments obstructing 

am I here…am I there… 

diasporic dissidence imploding, stranding me in…