I sit in my kitchen, the wall clock
Ticks ten past seven evening time.
I feel at ease and doves of peace
Cross a distant sky.

The unchanging hum of the fridge
Accentuates my inner harmony,
Perhaps there will be peace too in
Palestine where a child, newly born,
Died in a senseless war and became
A bitter memory long before she
Had a memory herself.

” We’re so very sorry, we apologise,
But we have the right to defend our
Settlers of this land.”
And from the dispossessed, a cry
Of revenge echoes through ravaged
Streets.

I sit in my kitchen and the fridge
Hums a lullaby of everlasting sorrow.