Don't Shoot Now! Thoughts for Our Time on War and Survival

If I must die

You must live

to tell my story / to sell my things

to buy a piece of cloth / and some strings

(make it white with a long tail) / so that a child, somewhere in Gaza

while looking heaven in the eye / awaiting his dad who left in a blaze–

and bid no one farewell / not even to his flesh / not even to himself–

sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above

and thinks for a moment

an angel is there