Spring After October
(Not Another War Poem)

Sheltered by shade, pink cyclamens grow,
surrounded by thorns, hides a rare rakefet,
it must be protected, as all children know,
as all children should, from sirens and rockets.

In barbed wire fields, the wild poppy springs,
over the grassy hills of Al Quds or Jerusalem,
from burnt ashes, she spreads her wings,
nature’s red renewal, not a war memorium.

Passing Clouds
(Wars Wash Away)

Those passing clouds,
who so cover the sun,
may seem permanent,
but are merely momentary –
transient, moving, fleeting,
like water, washing away.
While the infinite light of the sun,
is as sure and steady,
as our own core of existence.