Wednesday, November 21, 2012

For Gaza

Smokeless fire burns the papers,
Of resolutions by blunted pens,
Using the ink of united powers,
Every verb written in past tense.

The one of only three places to be,
Is now standing on a corroded stool,
Trembling pillars on their very knees,
Pages of dusty history books in school.

Flightless pigeons in barbed cages,
With broken wings and grey feathers,
Rusted steel surrounding for ages,
An untold tale of the silent wailers.

Lying on the bed staring at the ceiling,
Lying on the floor staring at the stars,
Wish to share this comforting feeling,
Wish to share the tales and the scars

From: Aiman Azlan


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