Behind barbed-wire fences, the children of Gaza still reach for flight, each day dancing upon the tightrope that the empire cruelly shakes, wide eyes watching Heaven through noxious clouds of white. They lick their chapped...

I walk upon the treacherous road into the impressions of a gardener’s boots, each of his depressions colossal beside the delicate footprints of a girl who learned to walk upon eggshells, in her mother’s tread...