after Fatihah Quadri

 

Call it genocide, not a war.
Call it Islamophobia, not racism.
Call it injustice.

See, a firefly flies on the lines of my palms hoping to find a home away from home but this road leads nowhere

Channel: Al Jazeera
Geographical Location: Gaza

conversation between a journalist and a Palestinian girl

Journalist: how do you see the war?
Palestinian Girl: the war made me ugly.

Before
I was beautiful
more than a white cat
even my glowing skin was being envied by nature.

Journalist: why are you crying?
Palestinian Girl: you resemble my exiled father.

He’s like a bird
who leaves the nest
early at dawn
for our shelter
but never returns

a bird feathering its own nest
the fledglings being swallowed by the jealous eagle.

& how do you know the statistics of innocent children that die in Gaza every day – because of hunger, thirst, and survival?

israel –
how many languages are we to teach before you learn the language of freedom?
how, much are we to pay for the price of peace?

because every day, reading BBC News Headlines – how many were killed today? how many were exiled? how many were injured? how many hospitals were bombed? how many mosques were shut down? how many survivors?

as if their demised statistics are what makes the other nations yet to listen to their voices

Palestinians are dying and we all keep quiet, we are all guilty of this pain, because of my silence, your silence, our silence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Emad El Byed on Unsplash