Les enfants de Palestine
Children born in the shadow,
of broken brotherhood, in madness caught,
The neglect found, in a
crumbling state, the purpose of life so distraught.
Each day, sluggishly wasting
away, as awful hunger gravely feasts inside,
Famine eating every fiber, to
the bone, craving the bitter taste, genocide.
Silently shriveling, your
little voices unheard, your images hauntingly sad,
Cradled, in your helpless
mother’s arms, your condition well beyond bad.
Reduced to skin, and bone,
your figure evidence, of your dreadful plight,
We repulse, our minds
retract, in disgust, reeling at your shocking sight.
Malnutrition has set in,
shutting cells down, your young bodies strained,
Clouds of lethargy, fogging
your brains, with every bit of energy drained.
The measure of depravation, a
harsh reminder, like we have seen before,
History, once again
repeating, in another place, and time, in another war.
Like lifeless forms, from the
concentration camps, in the past we dread,
As evil men feast, on the
legacy, that they create, architects of the dead.
While fat politicians, feed
on the discontent, manufacturing more waste,
The cogs of time grinding,
“Oh so slow!” Bound up in ideological distaste.
People lost in platitudes,
too frightened to take a stand, and be counted,
As insignificance, of your
existence, right to survive, is heavily discounted.
Thousands of you left, to
bear the ransom cost, for the hostages detained,
Under a banner of terrorism,
confined within the biblical land, so shamed.
The regime resolute, content for
you to starve in terrors war, till the end,
Unwilling to change, what
they have started, to surrender, make amends.
Creating heartless collateral
damage, in pointless deaths often mourned,
More death and destruction
laid, by their dysfunctional regime so scorned.
Where madness cannot be
cured, their wicked fellowship so badly broken,
Poor infants of Palestine, so
tangled in the wrath, that has been awoken.
Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (July 2025)
.jpeg)