A father squats in the corner wall behind him peeling his daughters three, five, seven, dead she says “May God give you others” to die? To be greyed and ashen and limp? Her eyes are still open but they see nothing they never knew freedom only filthy rags and plastic bags a glory army meters away human cages children’s fingers always grey faces smudged with ash and winter small bodies aged by the shades of unrestrained war. Gaza I have wept. Useless. I have forgotten. The shame of everyday complaints compared to Gaza I am doing nothing and most of me doesn’t want to know doesn’t want to see screams of the suppressed innocence drained Gaza I died today but you are living in hell and I wonder when all of it will end.
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