A young Ima waits patiently,
for her father has to come,
he had promised that he would be home soon,
and they would break the fast together.
Blast and screams from the distant land are filling up the square,
As the evening sky turns redder still ,
with each new building that’s put on fire.
It’s almost Iftaar time and he said he would come,
It’s for the first time she is on fast, It’s her first Roza.
Her mother urges her to clean up and change,
as her guests would arrive soon,
her little friends and cousins,
who would come to break bread with her.
And soon enough a party does arrive but not the one she expected,
bringing along the screams and blasts which now were not so distant.
And just before the horror and death was about to consume her,
It ignited her, a bright light blazing and searching
and her face become more red than the crimson sky overhead .
But she did break her fast,
albeit in a different way than expected
instead of sweets and chocolate her father was supposed to bring
she had dirt and rubble that the rockets brought.
On a hilltop somewhere on a southern town,
A bunch of people flock together
with popcorn in their mouths and hookas by their side
A new kind of entertainment has risen,
with cities being burned and children being mutilated
Television has turned pale in comparison.
This is what years of war has made us,
this is how we became inhumane.
Sirens have been ringing continuously for some hours now,
sky turning into a canvas of the world it covers,
the black and brown of smoke has intermingled with the red of the blood.
The God above the artist here,
Mocking and painting the colors each heart desires,
“But whose God mine or theirs” , the young doctor ponders
As he turns his back on the dark sky
to check the dead this night had.
“Twenty more were brought in dead”, the nurse notes
“Twenty more lives slain” , the doctor whispers
“In the name of God , Glory and the promised land”.
“But doctor there is one alive, who was brought in here this evening,
A girl of around seven , who is alive yet still not living”, trembling the nurse ended.
The doctor moved closer to inspect the sole survivor,
the little girl in torn but still new cloths
her eyes staring into the distance, yet without seeing.
The only movement the alive corpse had
was slow inaudible Arabic rumble
“They are dead, they are dead” was all she said
since she was brought into the hospital.
The young foreign doctor turned away from the bodies both dead & alive
Remembering vividly his trips to Synagogues with his mother,
remembering the teachings of Torah
this is not what his religion was like.
Praying silently to the one true God
praying for the madness to stopas he couldn’t see more corpses of children
before the next fast broke.
(Photo Credit : http://www.davidicke.com/headlines/29686-an-international-crime-called-gaza/ )