PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

i have never tasted the soil of your mothers homeland

the soil rich and brown

never rested in my hand



or yours



our fingers intertwine over in America

i picture flying home

to Palestine

taking mental pictures of your face

as it takes in

the place

that runs in your blood

like love

runs in your blood



the blood

that will run

in our children



i picture their faces

dipping them in the waterfalls

of the Phillippines

watching them sip lemon tea

with their cuya over

rice patties greener

than lime



i picture their faces

when they ask

if the

land daddy comes from

has waterfalls too

what food

their uncles will

cook for them there

i cup their faces

look into their wide dark eyes

you have no uncles

in Palestine

most food

is shipped in boxed

packages

from America

we will not go there

together



their eyes become distant

at the word "violence"



their tiny fingers are brown

will they ache to touch

the soil of their homeland

with tears

as you do

will they check the

Pacific islander box

for convenience

when they take the SATS

will the love that runs

in their veins

burn and sing

as hot as yours



how much less imagery

will they have

in their poems

of home