Poet's Tree (Rewritten)

The Poet’s Tree On the plateau, at a distance, I saw a large tree with multi coloured leaves, on each one was printed a commercial poem, a verse for every occasion and written as not to hurt any one’s feelings. I asked for a poem about unjust wars in the Middle East, the tree had none but I was offered a few about World War One. All wars are just and the winner gets to write the rules. The tree, stood inside rolls of barbed wire, no copy pens allowed within a radius of fifty yards. A storm came, blew the wire around like tumble weed, leaves- torn from the tree- flew in the air and transformed into grooming tropical birds cooing about love. I did find a pale green leaf, almost transparent, on it was written in blood; “Gaza is my name let me not die in vain”