If only: a poem

I’m walking and a man says, “If the Palestinians would just love their children more than they hate their enemy, the violence would be over.”
Yes.
If only.
If only they would love their children.
If only they would raise their arms to the sun to block the bombs with the palms of their hands.
Why don’t they?
Why can’t they just pull out their own lungs and stick them into their slaughtered children’s chests?
If only they would love their children, and carry their bodies up into the air, above the siege, past the blockade, into freedom.

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