This time, I see myself weep
for Gaza

I feel the tears,
hot,
down my cheeks

I am unable to utter a word;
the voice is locked in my throat,
the body holds me in it's grip
of identification

I see a man
standing in the snow,
weeping - this time - for the people of Gaza,
one by one;

a motionless shudder
in the snow,
the open silence building,
his tears penetrating time,
opening vertical shafts,
boring wormholes in spacetime