By José Faus

She stands against the rubble
The black of her robe
The beige of the shattered wall
A bloated body a man’s head
Trail off on the walk
Other bodies bits and pieces
out of the brick
She is frantic tearing at her hair
She tells you about mothers fathers
Sons daughters friends lovers
Stacked bunched against the kitchen wall
She asks which one’s blood is that
Puddles about the refrigerator door
  I tell her it never rains in Lebanon
Only bombs bricks cars
Bits of people dogs cats

José Faus, of Colombia, South America, read this poem April 28, 2024, at the Waldo Library in KC MO, during the program, “Insidious Apartheid: South Africa, Palestine, and Beyond.” Photo courtesy of José Faus. (c) 2024, José Faust, Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike 4.0 International License.