the children of gaza
Inna lillahi wa inna ilahi rajiu’n
An arabic phrase
I have been chanting to myself as I fall asleep
To the images of
Bloodied
Martyred
Children?
My eyes jolt awake.
No, it couldn't be.
Just a bad nightmare.
For the 100th time just this night,
I turn my phone back on
Ya Allah, it was just a bad dream right?
The screen awakens from slumber
Flashes of
red, gray, brown
blood, soot, dirt.
Behind all the chaos.
There they were.
The masses of massacred Gazan children.
Open wounds that just won't scab
Because their
6th
7th
8th
9th and
10th year was celebrated
With bloodshed instead of a birthday cake.
My cheeks are wet.
My fingers flick off the saline droplets
Falling down
My unwounded skin.
I will never understand the pain
Of an unhealing scab.
As always,
