Rabin
I remember the day Rabin was shot
twice through the chest with a homemade gun
and the next day the weary Jerusalem sun
struggled to rise, and found it could not

I remember the day Rabin was shot
the holy in their barbed-wire settlements cheered
and the bloodthirsty lining the roadways jeered
at the impossible beauty which he had sought

I remember the day Rabin was shot
of a sudden there was nothing left to save
but some stones laid atop a desert grave
his dream led to a bload-soaked plot

We hope that things will change, know they will not
We remember the day Rabin was shot