land

(poems go here) My neck strains in ample disposition Your clever attempt to persuade me I reckon you have imagination Like the lord who has not been said in vain My lord is my own; your lord is your own I have no binds we are not together But through thick and thin my skin rips clear and clever I am not consumed but awoken From the screams and cries of Palestine Young orchard grows thick fruits berries never real Enough to touch and to smell the fragrance Enough to see and breathe the bitterness The taste so sweet yet un-calming Clams shatter from the footsteps on the sand They have conquered our land.