Will the Fire Never Cease

The sun continues to rise

Day after hellbound day

ঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌ

Raw eyes have run dry

Every rose

Long desiccated

Scattered in memory of the

Myriads

Dead

Murdered

Martyred

In an ancient game of

Marking stolen lines

In the shifting sand

ঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌ

Today one man’s

Tomorrow

Swallowed up again

Each petal a name

Every thorn a line

Wiped from this plane

Though streets

Run red with

Blood and grief

Air thick

With prayer

ঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌ

The living don

Whitened mourning robes

Held back by the

Crumpled and starving

Wrapped in red tape

Shaking their heads at the

Unbreakable laws

Made to protect the innocent

ঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌঔঌ

Codes and loopholes

Weighed and measured

This war on mercy found wanting

A stain on humanity

We shall never forget

We couldn’t

Wretched indignities

Indelibly printed on our brains

K.B. Silver

I looked on Wikiart for a Palestinian artist and found Ismail Shammout. The painting above struck me with red dominating the canvas and white contrasting with the sun and robes.

How many ceasefire agreements can there be? How many times can everyone convene, agree to increasingly worse terms, and still be starved and violently killed in return. I have little left to say on the subject, except to mourn. This was written a few months ago. Lately every time I sit and start writing something on the subject, nothing coalesces, it just flows out in tears.