Chorus of Exiled Palestinians
John Adams
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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
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