By Sitharaam Jayakumar
"This poem is dedicated to all mothers giving birth in war torn Gaza strip
The dark clouds hovering in the sky,
Burst with a loud and ominous roar,
Pelting the earth with huge drops,
Of pure water and heavy snow.
A woman walked with broken steps,
To find a lone corner or a war shelter,
To give birth to her baby girl,
Who wanted to come out of her womb early.
She had to keep the promise,
She had made to her little one,
That she would bring her out into the world,
Even if it meant giving up her life.
Suddenly, in the distance, she could hear,
The noise of heavy shelling and gunfire,
She immediately stopped in her tracks.
Not daring to move forward or back.
The sound of firing came closer,
Now she could see the enemy soldiers dimly,
As they moved forward rapidly,
Soon, they were right in front of her.
She did not shrivel in front of the enemy,
She did not beg for sympathy or pity,
She stood with her head held high,
And looked at them straight in the eye.
The leader of the men moved forward,
He took hold of her hand and said,
‘Come with me, my dear lady.’
He gently led her to a wooden shack nearby.
She was made to lie down on a rickety bed,
Soon an army doctor attended to her.
After a lot of pain and struggle, she heard a cry,
And was soon holding in her arms a bundle of joy.
The leader of the men came back,
Into the room and smiled at her,
She looked at him in wonder and asked,
‘Why did you help an enemy of your country?’
“Don’t make any mistake about it lady,” said he,
‘I will be court-martialled for this.
But when they ask me the question you just asked,
I will say I too was born from a mother’s womb.’"