Have you seen the wall, Hassan? Have you seen the wall?
As, alone, I walk along it, have you heard me call?
Is your house still standing in the grove of olive trees,
Where cool streams flowed and cagéd birds sang to the evening's breeze?
Remember when we sat there, Hassan, drinking coffee in the shade?
You brought fruit and I brought cheese, and the bread that Rachel made.
Hassan, can you hear me? Where are you now, my friend?
O Hassan, in my heart those long gone days shall never end.
Can it be that your trees are gone, and the caged bird sings no more?
That the stream runs cool for no one, of your house there's but a door?
For what's been done to you, my friend, I hang my head in shame.
For letting Hatred rule our lives, we all share in the blame.
Hassan, can you hear me? Have you heard me cry?
Ours is a monstrous wall, brother, barb-wired, thick, and high,
But like the others, one day, friend, it, too, is doomed to fall.
And then shall we in Canaan dwell: Peace be upon us all.
— Leora Douraghy
December 7, 2003
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