An Olive Branch
A very old olive tree, owned by a Palestinian,
so aged that it might have given shade to
the carpenter Joseph when he was resting under
its shade a hot august lunch time and contemplating
his sons’ future was bulldozed this morning.
No big deal you may say and I agree, everything
must come to an end, even olive trees, only
the perennial was got rid of because the Israeli
army’s snipers needed a clear view to the village
where people who didn’t like their regime lived
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem