Mother’s holding the hands of their children, boarding the train as evacuees.
Mother’s holding the hands of their dead children, grief-stricken, brought to their knees.
Scrambling around in the rubble, people search for any sign of life,
a mother’s arm still wrapped around her baby boy,
a man screams;
‘that’s my son
and my wife.’
Whole families decimated because they have nowhere to go,
nowhere to run to,
nowhere to hide,
in the open air prison that is Gaza–
this is genocide.
And, it’s taking place right before our very eyes…
As we turn our heads the other way,
pretending that we can’t see,
pretending that we can’t hear
their desperate cries
for a ceasefire.
That’s all they want-
for Israel to stop.
They don’t want to ‘win’,
they don’t want to ‘come out on top.’
When Churchill declared a state of war-
Britain against Germany-
our children had somewhere to go.
They were sent away,
to places of safety.
But, in the open air prison that is Gaza, children have nowhere to go, hence why 4000 children have already been killed, with this number likely to increase even further as there is no sign of a ceasefire happening anytime soon.
The poem above is about our complicity in the war,
in the genocide,
that is taking place right before our very eyes…