FOR BIYA JIHAD FAYEZ
on my head-screen
the dead stare of millions
flickers black and white
from behind the wire
despairing
at arms and elbows broken with rocks
by soldiers on hillsides
at this child dead in the street
this tear in the fabric of the race
this renting of life
for them the sight is an everyday abomination
a brutal conformation of the jackbooted hero
from the camps
at home now
lessons learned
faces set
the tribe that was gone is come