In lands where ancient echoes call,
'Neath olive trees that stand so tall,
The question lingers, heavy, cast,
Israel God's chosen or self chosen—vast.
A land that's waged a war, it seems,
Against both civilians and Hamas streams,
No line drawn 'twixt darkness or light,
A struggle that endures through night.
The Palestinian people bear the toll,
Of a conflict that consumes the whole,
Paying the price of an unfocused hate,
In a history's shadow, they contemplate.
As though blinded by the night so deep,
Where tears of mothers silently weep,
For peace, for solace, for wounds to mend,
For a dawn where all hearts can blend.
