There’s a tree outside my window
I wish I knew its name
it’s old, light brown, and hulking
with more branches
than I can see
they reach high
toward the waiting sun and stars
and spread wide
like fingers of cracked glass
running
from the point of impact
its soul meets the dirt
in my neighbor’s yard
but don’t ask me where its roots grow
they stretch farther than I’ll ever know
 
on one branch a white cloth waves
the remnants of a sheet maybe
or a bag
it doesn’t matter what it was before
it’s near the top
and in the winter 
when the leaves have fallen,
I can see it there
billowing out and in
out and in with the wind
then hanging limp
almost camouflaged by
the gray winter sky
 
A Palestinian man was killed today 
by an Israeli soldier
with a gun purchased with my taxes
money that should go
to my neighbors and friends
but instead goes to death
and despair
the man was young, with light brown hair
and strapping, before his body fell
I saw the video on my timeline
posted by a foreign outlet
from Jordan, I think it was
that’s not something our news would show
you know
he was walking with friends
and his brother, they said
in his hand he held a small branch
on which he’d tied a piece of white cloth
the remnants of a sheet maybe
or a bag
it doesn’t matter what it was before
he waved the branch when he saw the soldiers
a sign of peace, a sign of compliance
they were ordered to leave their homes
but as he followed the occupation’s orders
a soldier shot him anyway
shot him past his waving cloth
the cloth which had
billowed out and in
out and in with the wind
now hung limp
covered with blood
almost camouflaged by
the spreading pool around his body
as his soul disappeared into the dirt
 
I didn’t know his name
and now I’ll never know
how far his branches reach
and how far his roots
stretch and grow

(Originally published by Moonstone Arts Center)