Let Me Stand Alone, The Journals of Rachel Corrie

Let Me stand Alone

In my mind you are still 23.
Trapped in your youth by death.

Today you would have turned
30 had you not stood

with hope

in the way
of a CAT bulldozer
using your thin
blonde frame
to stop
the demolition
of the Nasrallah family's home.

You wedged yourself
between destruction
and life.
that makes sense
to me
but not to the driver
who drove over your body
cracked your spine
and murdered you.


Your diary was given to me
by your family. They wanted
to share
who you are.

were.

I read your words and watched you grow.

this poem you wrote when you were 11
hung me out to dry:

There are few things which have
the pride and the shyness of a soft, wet trillium

I know you would be different now.
An even greater, more brilliant writer
activist
neighbor.

I string together this shitty poem
for you. In honor of your big 30.

you love
i mean
loved poetry

we miss you