In peace rain is water.

As children warm rain
is a blessing, a play thing,
a puddle, the joy of disturbing
cloudy reflections of ourselves.

In war rain water is a weapon
a blockade, the drying taps
bombing you out of your home

In war, Palestinian blood
now rains freely like bombs.

Never again? All our wells
are water is now all our blood
is what we have done.













Photo by Ed Leszczynskl on Unsplash