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Palestine
by Saaya Prasad
Every day, a baby dies in the most gruesome way.
Every day, a mother cradles a lifeless body against her broken, beating heart. Wishing to exchange this fate.
A father builds a tomb to bury his family in place of a home.
A child looks into his father’s eyes and whispers, “I’m starving.”
A child looks into her mother’s eyes and cries, “I’m afraid.”
Palestine – you had no debt to repay.
Palestinians – you were only born at the wrong time, in the wrong place.
Palestine, where prayers trail across bloody land, while those who kill go home with clean hands.
Palestine, where the innocent suffer in silence, because their screams mean nothing to a world that thrives on violence.
I cannot imagine myself in your place – living each day in fear of death.
I would not wish this on my worst enemy:
To die, simply because you had breath.
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