melting spring  |  micaela raen


rain only freezes as ice
to melt as river
its shimmer waving in the heaven's wind
while the refugee has
no home
no love of change
or its finger's fist becoming her heart's abandon
or the wave of her hand to slap the fly above her baby's eye...

out of anger's mouth
rises the force of change
the slamming door behind her exit...
the news report of a shamed Palestine
no much better to sleep unknowing
under the highway
on the rat-infested mattress
left to rot, obsolescent
no dream to outline the change of her smile to scream
no feel of her legs lying open
to rape
to the pillage of God
yet I cannot stop my hand from reaching
out to hers
as the tip of our fingers touch
the sweat cries tears together
in the sun of a melting Spring...

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