Hadi Atallah

They moan out a little song, and they say harshly, “Our beliefs you see, bring bitter enemies.” 

And they nod and get up to make raucous comments behind closed doors. 

This poison would have worked had the good not superseded them. 

Their brains now burn over the evil and poor. 

Their darkness spread over a page they share with all those that are indeed good. 

The violent plunge their knives into hearts in order to cleanse them. 

But equity conducts itself in a known pattern, nevertheless. 

It is known in the early morning through the world that humbleness and passion are well known among the good neighbors. 

Youngsters are taught about them with excitement. 

But those violent whisper about it. 

They become beggars with the first fruits of a quagmire.

We are ill with grief, they say.

‘Hypocrites!’