A Decision Made

How often ruled by decisions made,

The child born into a holy land.

The blue star on his forehead laid,

Says he’s no beast, but born a man.

And the other girl, she’s already two.

Beyond a wall where olives grew.

Black and green and white the hue,

Rebellion in her heart imbued.

The boy he grows with blessed eyes,

In them the secret of his people’s plight.

His ears heard words that he recites,

God is with them, these words are right.

Gone…Poor Majid!!! Ammeh Layla too!

Their faces crushed while in their rooms.

She forget her dress–It was her favorite Blue.

No thought for dresses! But prayers at the tombs.

Prodigiously, a boy learns a steady hand.

A boy is a soldier, a soldier defends his land.

He fights against a horde of beasts,

And toasts their graves as if at a feast.

Bullets against rocks, the moon against the sun.

To exist is a defiance; to defy is to not run.

As tanks roll over farms and tractors over homes,

A military kills children, but hey they had stones!

Stooped in position, his own heart feeling hateful!

Locked and loaded to the state ever faithful.

Cut away the roots of an enemy that lingers.

Bullseye! As he pulls back trigger fingers.

Metal clink clack tore through the shoulder,

Hurled her sideways, her body tumbling over.

Rebellion to the end, her young life realized.

To exist is defiance, how she lived and then died.

A decision made,

One born blessed the other cursed,

Because of the shaping of discourse,

I often contend—-

who makes these decisions and what are they worth.