Ceasefire

Children as thin as paper,
eyes as vast as oceans
they have no tears or cry
but hunger
now they
know what is awaiting,
there are no lullabies in
Gaza, no tomorrows,
the fertile soil is barren
bear, a desert,
they ravaged the seeds one
by one,
piling  the dead  high
but the little bodies yearn to
grow.
Their heart etched
with gravel and those
who could have stopped
the horror, stand firmly in
their ignominious places
raising money
for war. They are celebrating with
champagne and gourmet dishes
feasting on genocide,
gathering their armies,
placing flower motifs on the tables
as the Palestinian mother
put on  warm socks
on her dead baby
before her burial.

We knew our lives were
not measured in
dollars, but flesh and blood
we know
freedom is fate
justice too.

In Rafah six hundred thousand children
await
while Israeli forces
like cowards sever the golden wheat,
the blossoms.