Artefacts What did you think You fresh faced teen As you guarded while bulldozers gorged Gouged Beit Arabiya apart Burying the morning’s routine? What did you think, young boy, Not long fresh from your school Did your Kalashnikov then define you As you guarded the wrecking machine? Six months later, we motley crew Scramble and scrabble among the rubble Revealing – washing up liquid, bottle full Cereal bowls, cups, spoons…. Arabiya, mother, was making breakfast when you showed. Walls upturned like giant’s teeth We heave and discover Salim’s wheelbarrow flat as a biscuit Cupboard shelves concertinaed Pliers, nails, preparations for father’s work. What did you think Young lad, behind your uniform’s screen. While bulldozers drove Smashing and crushing The grove, the vine, the olives and pomegranates? Was “only obeying orders” your theme? Did you see the terrified children rush out Disappearing into the hills? Missing their breakfast. And school. Not just for a one-off day: Their trauma has never gone away. Next time your guard over demolition Please think of the 28,000 homes, Please think of your own breakfast times, Mother sending you off uninterrupted to school. Your father preparing for work. Think. Think. Fresh faced soldier. Think. A Jones, England. August 2013
Posted on: Wed, 21 Aug 2013 10:16:15 +0000
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