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Daughter of Zion has been
walking down the aisle
towards the altar of
the end of all ends
part destruction, part blinding light
sacred in the purity of its chaos
as she bleeds names of unsaved
children and all the witnesses
weep tears of stone
that smell of early graves
and constitutional slavery
and rape
and the decay of silence
rolling down the pews
towards the path of
the resolute bride bound
since her prophesied birth
to wed death and eternal night
and the complete understanding
of perdition when the clock
runs out of hours.

She stumbles but doesn’t fall.
Her immaculate train is
hemmed in fire, and she burns
everything behind her.
There is no reversing this path.
She had heard of Lot’s wife
and the pillar of salt.
She will pass this test.
She hears the organ
miss half a beat, and then
increase the tempo
of the relentless march
and she gets imbued with
an overdose of impatience
to finally arrive
so she hurries up,
her disenfranchised heart
pumping obsolete newsprint ink
and crude oil
and cheap, unadulterated fear,
wrought by endless screaming,
responding in kind.

“Gaza, a Moment of Peace” by photographer Emad S Nassar


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