Merely, I was an eyewitness;
events unfolded from a chain of scenes,
sometime, flashed like visions,
then turned into total dreams.
One Palestinian child on one limb,
dashing through the desert heat
at the speed of light
yelling out loud his brother’s name,
a captive, imprisoned inside the web of time.
Out of the Red Sea, two elders
rose in the image of Adam and Eve,
and rocketed into the sky, leaving behind
trails of sounds that became columns of soldiers,
riding caravans of green camels and red horses.
The elders hovered above
the Palestinian child’s head
and followed him at his speed,
and assured him of victory for him
and all his disfigured friends.
Baghdad, they cried out to the Child,
will eat the flames of evil guns,
will shoot invading phantoms,
trapped inside layers of skies.
Thirty days and thirty nights,
counting from day 22, month 9, 2002
Allah’s hand will carve into earth
and resurrect all those who were murdered
without reason or cause.
Their graves will remain open
until their voices are heard
by every woman, man and child.
A swift army, equipped with
angel wings and songs
will descend to the birthplace of Islam
to take an oath...
enemies will never set foot on Holy Sites.