My brother said he’d seen so many dead bodies

And had so much                  death              around him

How could he weep for the poor faces of the Palestinians?

                        How could he weep?

But I’m not a man and I could never understand

What it’s like to                    need a man              to tell me

To will me into hope for the future

I said no words to my brother really

I just remembered the little boy

Who ran away from trains who

Had                 wonder                       in his eyes at the sky

And I remember all the                   death              that has surrounded me

That has got up inside of me

And I remember the faces of the Palestinians who do not ask for hope

They ask for their story to be told and to be heard

And I listen to the shrieks of their story in my ears and I listen

And I cry real tears as I feel the full weight of my people dying

Of our people dying

And I feel the fire of death in my veins

And I wipe my tears away so that I can wash the feet of my dead

While my brother remains in his room