Other Deaths
A Poem
When I die I will fall to the ground, with soulless eyes and dead flesh ripe for the earth. How lucky am I? No open wounds will cut across the soft features of my face, no steel, no rubble, no bones that aren’t mine lodged in between my own. What misery is this? How cruel am I to hope for other deaths?
This painting reminds me painfully of Mahmoud Hammad. A father in Gaza who spent days scrambling through rubble, searching for every last bone and fragment of his pregnant wife and their unborn child in the wreckage of flesh Israel left behind. His tired hands and his hollow face.
Beautiful poem. Every human being will taste death and some of cruel people celebrate others killing. The Gaza Genocide is classic example.
Thank you Zahra, The Gaza Genocide is becoming the touchstone to pose to otherwise decent people, "But first, do you condemn the Gaza Genocide and all who support it?"
Yes, it must be denounced and the criminals relaxing now must be tried in a new International Court, yet to rise from the ashes of what was once International Law.