Watch the olives fade from the trees
See as the topsoil goes flying
When there are no roots to hold it in place
Grasp the barren ground with a blood soaked hand
There are no olives in the promised land.

Listen as sounds of birds drop from the clouds
Wings bent in odd shapes
Sleek metal, explosive
At it’s base, a familiar brand
No more birds in the promised land.

Smell the sharp scent of iron
Flinch at it’s unrelenting sting
In such a great quantity,
Flowing in rivers on the loose sand
How do you persist, promised land?

Feel prison walls trembling
With the remembrance of screams
Greatly envied, this home so coveted
Boots fall just how they were planned
How can you subsist, promised land?

When will the killers of olives, birds,
Shedders of blood and missiles
When will they fall, O Promised Land?

Home on all sides of the globe
My suffering reflected with yours
A missed land, a promised one

This Promised Land:
When will my spring come back to you?