What does she see
looking over that scarred chain link
fence? Does she see an embittered
landscape, the prize for an ideological
war? Does she see children
like herself, afraid of all the horrors
the adults try to hide from them?
Does she know about the world
beyond the fence, the world beyond the Strip,
where death comes from old age
rather than missle barrages from attack helicopters
or bomb vests and holy epithets?
She looks off, at the sunset,
the far off horizon as foreign to her
as a life without war or poverty.
She should see that horizon
someday, from the other side of the fence.