For the Children of Palestine

You are a mother--
three babies nursed at your breast.

Yesterday, four babies like yours
were murdered by rockets
playing in the sand.

When you took us to the beach,
were you afraid
we would be carried home,
bloodied and mangled?

When you told us to come inside for dinner
after playing with our friends,
were you worried
we might not make it back
to ever eat again?
Perhaps it would be our last meal.

With you, mother, we have our first meal.
And these babies have all nursed at your breast.