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