Poem -

His name

 I’ve got his death certificate.
I’ll keep it.
I don't want you to tell me one day
that he didn’t exist,
that I didn’t have a son
named Mohamed,
that I invented him
between missile and missile,
between blood and flesh.
I’ll keep it.
Stamped, dated, timed—
when an Israeli drone
turned him into a signed piece of paper,
into a grave with barely a body.
I'll keep the paper well-folded,
tenderness and fury,
like his gaze,
the  gaze of a child.
You cannot tell me
that it was all a nightmare,
a dilemma, a childhood trauma,
the stuff of war,
of a genocide.
My son was cloud and earth,
promise and guardian.
He came from laughter.
My chest and his father’s
were hills and sand
that cradled him
like a lullaby,
like the swaying
of a newborn.
I held him so close that my hands
had merged with his belly
and his chest.
I’ll keep the death certificate
so you know that my son
lived eight months,
that he played with his siblings,
that I held him in my arms.
This paper is pain and memory,
a testimony:
my son is awaiting
the day of Justice,
when his name will be spoken:
Mohamed Ammar Al-Masri

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Comments

author
sparrowsong

Hello Trinidad...

One great thing about it is that someone's right and someone's wrong...

We're all going to find out...

Great write!

Thank you for sharing...

sparrowsong

Reply
author
Bernadete van d...

Dear Trinidad,
I am so very sorry for baby Mohamed. And my heart feels for his parents. I shed a tear for them.
With kindest regards,
Bernadete 

Reply
author
Marion

Oh my god... tears in my eyes. You never get over the death of your very own child... I know. I'm so sorry but I know these are the most meaningless words ever. Hugs X

Reply
author
Being Me

I don't know what to say. There's no words that can say anything really. Your poem is strong and it sends the reader into a state of quiet contemplation ... and hatred for what is going on. 

I am so very sorry for your unimaginable loss in such horrendous, evil circumstances xx

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