Image Credit, Hosny Salah
Sun-scorched sands weep silent tears, Where children’s laughter once rang clear. Shattered homes, a wasteland grim, Echoes whisper, “When will peace begin?”
Olives gnarled, their branches bare, Witness shells that fill the air. Mothers huddle, prayers untold, For futures fading, dreams grown cold.
Mosques stand tall, yet hearts are crushed, Hope, a fragile flame, barely brushed. The world observes, with distant sighs, While innocence bleeds beneath the skies.
When will the bombs relinquish hold? When will the stories start untold? Of playgrounds built, of laughter’s bloom, Of shattered lives, reborn from gloom.
For in the depths of darkest night, A flicker persists, a yearning bright. That leaders choose the path of grace, And build a future, love’s embrace.
Though scars may etch upon the land, May healing hands, not weapons, stand. May Gaza rise, its spirit whole, A testament to peace’s soul.
About The Author
