Sun to God (Gaza, 2021)
By Ladan Osman
A boy recovers trinkets
from his rubbled home.
I glint and glimmer
the objects he seeks.
My love drawing thirst,
my love a fatigue.
He fills his bucket.
He takes stock,
his small smile another sun
on a cluster of plastic roses.
A man says: You’ll get new toys.
You don’t need those.
This child is resurrecting.
Do not interrupt this work.
I want to roar but their ears
can never attune to my voice.
The boy cries and the man asks:
Why are you crying?
God will recompense it all.
The boy cries more.
I shine on him more.
I hurry to dry his tears
but the lines they leave
testify against us both, Lord.
Many and many times,
I have lit the way to oblivion.
Many and many times,
I was tied from vengeance.
Always and always
we wait for you
to raise the walls again,
place beloveds back inside,
to refill the cratered earth,
return the orchards,
to call back the ghosts,
quiet the echoes,
to recompense it all.
