we walk with the screams of children, and the groans of mothers pulsating over and over in our ears....
POEMS FOREVER
There, on the other side,
time changes, hours pass, and it gets darker,
the sky takes off its dim dress, then the morning arrives,
but here where I live, and breathe, life wears its black dress constantly,
to mourn the labour of my land,
which took a long time.
Here, the hanging clock, in my room is broken,
not only this one, everyone’s clock is broken here,
my mother keeps saying:
everyone is waiting for the elixir,
we’ve had it with the grief and agony,
in this holy land we sleep and wake up on the sound of bombing and shooting
so the first light of day rises in the evening,
lighting up the sky with the blood of martyrs,
here death sleeps not far from us,
we all walk towards freedom, towards hope,
we walk on the shattered glass of our broken windows,
we walk on stones that once were a house, carrying stories and secrets,
we walk with the screams of children, and the groans of mothers pulsating over and over in our ears.
Nadine Murtaja, a young Palestinian poet wrote this poem, and it was posted on October 16, 2023 by Maria Liv on marialiv.com.
By Sirajuddin Aziz
So it is these days,
My heart is filled
With vast sadness
And painful grief
Limbs, arms, neck and heads,
Separated eternally
Lie scattered on streets
Buried under bombed homes
The corpses lie denuded
The heartrending shrieks
Of infants, boys and girls
Echoes in tormented Gaza
Reverberating all night long,
But, alas,
Human conscience is deaf
Lulled to sleep by intoxication
Of power and self preservation.
Blindfolded lies humanity,
Mocks the mourning
Of those deprived of,
Possessions, relatives and friends
The poor hapless Gazians,
Women, men and children.
She yells to no listeners,
The black tresses covering
That bloodstained corpse
Are similar to my mother’s
Is that lifeless body, my mother?
None to wipe her tears,
No comforter in sight,
Fathers, brothers, uncles, aunts,
All and more,
Lie buried.
With no funeral service,
She pulls her blood soaked,
Scarf
And shrouds her mother.
Life is sold cheap,
Death reigns supreme.
Humans maim humanity
It is then,
Divine retribution is nigh,
Silence is criminal, but
Voice of soul, conscience
Cannot be muzzled.
The scars will hurt,
And remain active and live
The perpetrators of the,
Dance of death
Shall inherit curse, doom
And unrelenting pain
A recompense for the
Misdeeds against the innocent.
The valiant children,
Have a rich history
Of sacrifice and martyrdom,
The callous spew,
Of bombardment and bullets,
Cannot shake their resolve,
Nor stop their
March to freedom.
Victory is near, not far.
Twist, tremble and turn
They will in the inferno
Lit up by the blood of
Innocent infants.
Martyrs never die,
Their cries will pierce
Hearts and souls
Now and forever
Gaza cannot be pulverised
Or silenced.
Compiled by SK
