There, look, I say to me, 

and I look. 

I see blue, lavender—life. 

And stare 

      at that horizon's calm gaze. 

Like leopard eyes. 

Bright and then brighter

      and then dimmer and darker

as clouds part 

and re-gather . 

I promise to stay 

     here,

in this moment of clouds 

and swells 

not in the last moment, 

     not 1000 moments past,

nor in the next.

I will not squander this moment

      with its music of wind chasing wind, 

bird calling bird, 

water washing rock. 

yes .... yes I can do this, 

      I will, do this.

I will kneel at the altar 

     of this moment. 

 
No other. 

Don't ask me how I'm feeling.

  Don't ask me how I'm feeling.

       Just don't ask.

Because I'm reeling.

No, no ask me...please.... ask!

     Because I’ll tell you

even if  you don't inquire,

even though I'm drained

of all routine desire.

I want to tell you. I really do.

     I don't want to be alone

emoting so much blue.

 I need to report it.

     Or should I say, deport it.

What is the right word

     for all my anguish?

What explains this weeping?

     This mood unrelenting, creeping

as a shadow 

follows me around

from my bedroom to the kitchen,

     From the market to the plaza?

I know the diagnosis—it is Gaza.