Bride of Palestine

Bride of Palestine Gaza

It was hard
To lift Poetry
Out of the grave

It was so very

It was difficult to find
Underneath the rubble
Underneath the lies

Its lips of iron
Its hair of plutonium

So still
In death

So innocent
So bled

Its song
Of shattered

Its meditation

Dead poetry
Is the teacher
Of silence

There are few things
As beautiful

My hands
Are black with
Scattered Earth

My eyes
Red spots
Of shared pain
Gouged out
By falling bombs

I hold open vigil

I bring incense
And myrrh
To the long night’s

See how the gulls
Mock the living

After all
This is a wedding
Of shame
Of betrayal

Look upon this Bride of Palestine
So beautiful in death

Would that she could dance
With her brothers
With her sisters
With her mothers
With her fathers

But they are forced to prepare
Other graves
In other lands
Alien and distant

The stars
Bend over her open sepulchre
Pretending to be flowers
Pretending to hope
That she will awake

Dead poetry
O Savaged Bride!
Do not try
To kiss me

For now
Lie still

You are the sleeping land
You are my only living heart
Within which I, broken, dwell

Death is so beautiful
In your lifeless arms

O Bride of Palestine
Accept this thy blessed dowry

All of poetry
Is yours

Dan Corjescu teaches at the University of Tübingen’s “Studium Professionale” Program

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