Poem: Gaza Told Me

Published: Tue 6 Jan 2009 10:32 AM
Poem: Gaza Told Me
Sonia Nettnin
Gaza told me
they made Palestinians a testing ground
for explosives. The people cry
because their children scream
fear the terror, sounds
of Israel's F16 warplanes, Apache
helicopters made by the USA. Say it
with a twang; or jaw-drop to
A drawl; withdraw air
while Gazans cannot sleep. Eyes wide awake
overhead reconnaissance planes,
fireballs release - airstrikes fly
psychological warfare on the phone.
Inside Gaza Strip, along the Mediterranean Sea,
1.5 million Palestinian refugees, who are targets
of occupation's collective punishment.
Shrapnel shatters windows, explosions pulverize
buildings to
Rubble, cold weather bites. Within days
the Strip's death toll mounts
hundreds and wounds thousands,
so bodies and debris remain. Palestinians ask:
"Don't we have the right to live like
the people of the world?"
Months of
Closed, border crossings
creates shortages food, water, electricity,
machinery parts, medicines, cooking gas
and the list strangulates the why. When bombshells land houses shake like the bowels
of a volcano. Inside flats
terrified faces flee
Their lives. Some people suffer
and burn, still alive. Survivors line
corridors of Al Shifa Hospital, Gaza
City, which lacks medical supplies.
The absence of diesel fuel signals nurses
to pump oxygen tanks for patients
by hand. Breathe in
And exhale assessments
on who lives, who dies, how to decide?
People in houses, schools, ambulances,
mosques, and in Ar-Riwal, there was
an orphanage nearby. A Palestinian refugee orphan displaced beyond
The sea/al bahr waves weep
wash away dove wings. Shores of
angels hover feathers soaked blood. Beats of
time summon
hard to
find a pulse
when flesh lies amid
wreckage and fire. Gaza burns inside
Anatomy is the future
of the human race that tears
across the surgeon's operating theater. The worm
burrows an apple - par that red toufa
despite wounds and fatigue.
The doctors cannot repair today
yet labor pushes newborns welcomed with
War wrapped in
bloody, cotton shrouds.
Palestinian men wear kufiyehs, and wail
into rage bursts
blood vessels expand
to rockets and arms. History
repeats over
Generations until the sands of
time conclude
we shall overcome -
yes we can be humanity
by selection, Gaza's tragedy reveals.
Violence triggers fingers point
to this group and
those people, so skin
colors diverse beliefs geopolitical
landscape deserts
plot the map whereby
caged human beings are treated different -
separate from the world.

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