I dreamed I had colossal hands. I mean the size of hope! Someone asked, “Are those your hands?” and I said, “No. I wish they were, my friend… If I had hands that big I would have held Iraq before the war and kept her children in. I’d have put her in my hands and ran so far away! Away from empire! Away from conquerors and maddened men! And while I ran I’d have held her close near my ear and I’d have learned to speak her language, and heard her people dear.” Then someone asks, “What of Saddam and his sons ?” And I say, “I’d Leave on a ranch, I'd have dropped them off In Crawford, Texas! I hear brush is cleared there more than not!” Then my hands started to shake and I heard the people in them begin to slake, `Freedom! Freedom! Freedom! الحريه الحريه الحريه الحريه A small boy then stood upon my wrist and declared to me, `You can put us down, my friend, we are finally free…’ يمكنك ان تضع'نحن الان علي صديقي. نحن احرار I awoke suddenly! I could still hear the echoes of `freedom’
(The Weaver's Song)