Chorus of Exiled Palestinians

My father's house was razed In nineteen forty-eight When the Israelis passed Over our street The house was built of stone With a courtyard inside Where, on a hot day, one Could sit in shade Under a tree, and have A glass of something cool Coolness rose like a wave From our pure well No one was turned away The doorstep had worn down: I see in my mind's eye A crescent moon Of that house, not a wall In which a bird might nest Was left to stand. Israel Laid all to waste Though we have paid to drink Our water, and our wood Is sold to us, we thank The only God Let the supplanter look Upon his work. Our faith Will take the stones he broke And break his teeth