By Lealina Evangeline Reyes
For Gaza, From the River to the Sea
The children are alone,
With salivating mouths and empty stomachs,
Digesting the walls of itself.
They scrape for the remnants of Father
Like they scraped the plate of last month’s dinner.
They drink the tears trickling down their face
Like they drank the droplets of last month’s water.
Crying as they see the uprooted Olive tree
Which sprouted with their birth.
Where is Mother, where is her warmth?
Will she come back bringing supper,
Or will we find her in our dreams
Wearing clean clothes for the first time,
Since the first rocket sent shrapnel in her thigh?
Therebefore when kites flew without fire,
And grounds shook with the children’s game
When supper came with no suffering
And Father was one and whole.
The children are alone, sleeping now.
And when they wake they will be
Another number instead of souls.
