To the Newton of Gaza
The leaves dry down with crackling veins,
another child gets taken away
The leaves fall down with yellowing edge,
another window shatters and all get laid
The gunpoint aims to my soul
As the back of my head dreams of a night in Seoul
Driving past the light-filled shores
As the houses burn till reaching the child's core.
Words were never my greatest strength
But the arsonist's child will read them
And know that words may not picture the horror I felt
But his father's hands may, which had taken my light away.
Do you still feel the apricity on your cheeks?
As you run behind your kite, stepping on the blood of your beloved parakeet
Playmates you swore to grow up with and hold each other
As you try to shield them from the debris of your shattered home.
Do you still feel the wind flow beneath your shirt?
As you unfold the mysteries of the universe with every blow
Soliciting the ever-wonderful life you dream of?
Twisting those wires to generate a coin of hope, taping batteries to connect hearts
Asking the wind blowing between your strands to show you the path.
Words were never my greatest strength
But I see in Hussam's eyes, the glistening of fresh, sweet water
Flowing from the river to the sea
Not with blood,
But with life.
And I wait to write about that glee.
Anika Zaman is a 12th grader studying at Birshreshtha Noor Mohammad Public College. Suggest her fun cat names at zanika369@gmail.com.
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