The least that can be said
She appeared asleep in her final slumber, while her little ones gathered around the body shrouded in white, in a universal moment of farewell to the pregnant mother in her seventh month, Rasha Abu Jazar. She was on a mission inside her small kitchen in the dilapidated tent, preparing lunch for her children, before she was struck by a stray bullet from a stray soldier in a “stray state”; as described by the late revolutionary poet Dr. Abd al-Latif Aql, and his phrase, uttered more than two decades ago, remains relevant.
Gaza, forgotten behind the clamor of destroyers in seas and oceans, and intercontinental missiles, endures daily pain; its children, young and old, are killed in homes and tents, in soup kitchen queues and in front of water tanks. There is no time for Gazans for a nap under a sycamore or a sad orange tree, or a night of socializing on a hill overlooking the sea; they have nothing but tears and longing to return to their ordinary lives; they eat, drink, and hold feasts and graduation parties in schools and universities that have become shelters.
Even writing is no longer appropriate today, for it is soaked in sorrow and steeped in tears; tears that barely dry before they return, and they are the only ones that possess the “right of return” to tired eyelids without restrictions. The responsibility of the international community, whose “patience has run out” with “Jewish ISIS-ism” – the latest of which was the destruction of the statue of Jesus Christ in southern Lebanon, in an incident that exposed the rogue state naked even of its fabricated narratives – lies in transforming these tears into hope, and preventing the repetition of the tragedy of the “martyred mother” who perished with her fetus in the tent kitchen.
شارك برأيك
Gaza Asleep in the Eyelid of Doom!