Najwan Darwish - THE ONES HANGING

The ones hanging
are tired
Bring us down
so we can have some rest
We haul histories
bereft of land and sky
sharpen your knife
and give your sacrifice its rest
You had no mother or father
and you never saw your brothers
from the cold talons of dawn
you loved no one
and no one ever left you
and death never ate from your hands…
You cannot know our pain
I’m not King David
to sit at contrition’s gate
and sing you psalms of lamentation
after the sin
Bring me down—
I want some rest