"Christmas in Gaza"
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Look beyond the prejudice in the news reports
And see our little peaceful town
Caught in a whirlwind of blasting bombs and chattering guns.
Look there,
a young mother with an amputated arm wails over her dead two year old
Caught by a bullet shot with precision.
Our streets are littered with the breathless heaps of our young men,
Fighting to repel a blind ravaging bull.
Our old men weld machine guns,
with their near-to-dead sights.
Blinded by both rage and age.
Fighter Jets fly over heads
Heading for our abandoned homes.
They open their dark anus
And empty their waste on our homes
Turning everything dear to rubbles.
The sick,
The wounded,
And the maimed litter our refugee camps
But there is no physician to tend a plagued nation
Our physicians are now fighters.
"The war must be won!" they say.
I miss the serenity of the nights spent at home,
I miss the bedtime stories and the peaceful renditions of prayers to Allah,
I miss the excitement of our playgrounds,
I miss the clattering of cutleries on plates filled with delicious meals,
I miss the peace we shared with all its colourful forms,
Before this strange night cast its haunting shadows on us.
Dedicated to all the people of Gaza. I pray the war ends soon
© Poetry
©Emeka Collins
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