BY SUMBUL MOIN
261 days of barbaric slaughter
Dead men, women and daughters
Bombs rain down, in heavy downpour
Choke the dreams, quench the roar
Of an unarmed population
Doomed to endless starvation
Multiple martyrs ascend to glory
Twisted narratives, tainted stories
Decades-old war each year rebranded
Against a people defenseless, stranded
Moral conundrum, self-defense
Evil propaganda, false pretense
Protests erupt in civil society
Expose the lack of western propriety
Armored cowardice, weaponized speeches
Humanity stripped down to breeches
No food, no aid for people savage
The dead are just numbers, collateral damage.
It's bad, I know. But it gets worse
Satan's wish? Or Devil's curse?
Burst their bubble, amidst the rubble
Take their lands, cause them trouble
Wage a war on innocent land
Drag them out on porous sand
Catch the terrorists, let them die
Ceasefire now! Blatant lie
Toxic hues of white phosphorus
Targeted attacks, quite monstrous
Schools and hospitals carpet-bombed
Well, at least the people are informed!
Asked to leave their homes, their lives
Aged moms and pregnant wives
What do they know? Where could they go?
Within the confines of imaginary borders
Trapped inside by enemy's orders
Mock concern, double standards
Honest names falsely slandered
All in the name of a promised land.
Birth a nation, wipe out another
Kill the sons of distant mothers
Form a graveyard of broken dreams
Dried-up blood and curdled screams
Call it your promised land
Until one day your time runs out
And the hoary adage goes about
We were, we are, we'll always be free
From the river to the sea.