by aemelia

A! Steel doth still scar

The charred soils

Bleeding out spintered flesh

Splayed out over grey rubble

Blossoms of pain

That the unceasing flames

Do engrave into every inch

As innocent people do fall

Their remains groveled down

Into the shambles

By sneering mercenaries

Left to the rot, unburied

Conveniently unseen by the camera

Thanks to the papery seals

That silver olive branch

That yet brings no real peace

Merely hides the fester

the continued pecking upon the slain

the falling of innocent civilians

Continuing beneath the surface of “ceasefire”

where the mockingbird, throat penetrated

By the firing of drones

cannot possibly sing of war

And the cries continue, unheard

even as children thin to their bones

do lay dead, their blood drenching the earth

Their parents, worn down and henched

bones long lost to the same ground

Are now joined by their loss

eyes still agape beneath the smoking rubble

Yet chained below by the forbidding firings

By the barbed wires that do

press doubly upon them

So the arms sales may be profitable

And the well-off next door may enjoy

the best resources and favoring judgement

While those within these walls

Do thirst for clean water and justice…..

“there is no more war in gaza!”quoth the media

Since the ceasefire is declared;

yet a! what their cameras cannot see

cruising upon a safe height

is that the bayonets are daily

Sprayed with new blood

And what they call skirmishes

Do eat up the pained folk….

Back when the war was still announced,

someone wanted to lend clarity

To this enduring pain

By his own sacrifice.

It must have hurt

when he so solemnly walked up

To that unstained embassy

that do partake in the war’s benefits;

lit his uniform

that former object of pride

letting the flames lick at his skin, his flesh

like he were some human candle

devoured by heat

Till his last breath is swallowed

by the hunger of the fire-tongues

His visage charred into public sight.

Yet soon, he dimmed, oh so conveniently

 from collective memory

Just like the children similarly inflammed

Among the crossfires and rubble long abandoned by media

Laughed off as an unworthy sacrifice….