The Scissors of Samson
by Mark Khairallah
…O glorious strength
Put to the labour of a Beast, debas't
Lower then bondslave! Promise was that I
Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver;
Ask for this great Deliverer now, and find him
Eyeless in Gaza at the Mill with slaves,
Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke;
Yet stay, let me not rashly call in doubt
Divine Prediction; what if all foretold
Had been fulfill'd but through mine own default,
Whom have I to complain of but myself?
-John Milton, Samson Agonistes
And the people shall find us
Eyeless in Gaza,
struggling under the yoke
of the miller whose name
is of many:
the US, perhaps,
or Britain, or France;
all of them reek the same stench,
all of them hold our hair in their hand.
the scissors of Samson blind the
Eyeless in Gaza,
unable to see the exit;
but not for lack of trying.
Squinting is just that,
and the chaff blocks our way.
The grain and the dust
returns from day to day.
Limbs and rubble, that’s all in the streets
here in Gaza; there’s more rubble
than food for those
Eyeless in Gaza.
Samson, we are
and you hold the locks.
Samson, no locks,
and you swallowed the key.
We jiggle the mill’s small door
and stick our arms down your throat
trying to find that truth
that we know can never be.
Eyeless in Gaza;
hopeless in Gaza: a broken key.