The curse of the prophetess.

• Author: Guin, Ursula K. Le
• Position: Poem

Hear my curse on the nation of Israel and the nation of Palestine. May the generals of your armies be little, heavy-burdened donkeys, and your leaders be patient, old sheep. May you listen discriminately to your God, testing the validity of the transmissions, and heeding not His calls to vengeance. May your women go bareheaded in His presence and dance in His temples, may their wombs be fruitful in girl children. May your young men take no joy in combat and your old men be fearful for them, saying, "Is it right that my son give his life for me? Am I a better man than he is? Nay, let him live to be a shepherd or garage mechanic or professor of ancient languages." Let the child set down the stone in his hand and be allowed to learn to make bricks for the building of houses. Let the mouths that spit forth missiles be stopped with earth. Let those who give their lives to destroy other lives be called not martyrs but murderers, the disgrace of their people. Let the day come, let it come now, when the name warrior will be a name of folly and the word victory mean a vain thing...