The Children of Gaza
. . .
Play soccer in the rubble between bombardments
Of their homes, schools, parks, hospitals—
Surgical strikes, of course,
Designed to surgically crush an entire block,
Entire generation, an entire People.
The children, who’ve known nothing but siege and war,
Their entire lives, try to ignore
The stench of death reeking from the neighboring apartment
building
In spectacular ruins, not a stone on a stone:
This is
destruction on a biblical scale!
They hardly care who is right and who is wrong,
Wonder when this just war will end,
And they can get back to being kids,
Laughing, kicking a soccer ball on a pitch.
[Bob Coughlin / July 28, 2014]
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