Friday, April 10, 2009
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
in the way
of a CAT bulldozer
using your thin
of the Nasrallah family's home.
You wedged yourself
that makes sense
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
who you are.
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
I string together this shitty poem
for you. In honor of your big 30.
we miss you