I am sorry. I am sorry.
I am sorry for your dead children, your bloodied babies, their terrible wounds.
As a father myself, I am filled with an ancient unnameable terror at your grief.
I am sorry for the boot on your throat. I paid for it.
I am sorry there is no one to speak for you.
I wish that I had wisdom, or hope, or some words of comfort.
All I can say is that there are many here
who weep for you. Who don't believe your children are worth less
than an Israeli child. Who believe that killing the innocent is wrong
whether the bomb is delivered by tank or mortar or plane or
strapped to a man's chest.
I have no gods to pray to, but if you do
I pray they give you succor.
Peace be upon you.