Moon Over Gaza

I am lonely
for my friends.
They liked me,
trusted my coming.
I think they looked up at me
more than other people do.

I who have been staring down so long
see no reason for the sorrows humans make.
I dislike the scuffle and dust of bombs blasting
very much. It blocks my view.

A landscape of sorrow and grieving
feels different afterwards.
Different sheen from a simple desert,
children who say my name
like a prayer.

Sometimes I am bigger than
a golden plate,
a giant coin
and everyone gasps.

Maybe it is wrong
that I am so calm.