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In Auschwitz it dripped
In Nablus now it drips
From flesh it freshly flowed
As in Nablus now it rips
In Auschwitz she cried
In Nablus now she cries
Hated hands held her and hers
As in Nablus where she lies
In Auschwitz they moaned
In Nablus now they moan
Hear the hunger haunting them
As Nablus orphans groan
In Auschwitz he fell
In Nablus now he falls
Bullets bounce from boy to brain
In Nablus off the walls
In Auschwitz they died
In Nablus now we die
And you call this land Holy Land?
In Nablus, we call it Auschwitz.
(Feb 28,2003)
Zeba Khan
Read poems about / on: hate
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