A Deafening Roar

Gaza Palestine

Gaza may be in the news, but it’s not on most folks’ minds — at least those folks within my own circle of friends and colleagues. I don’t know what to make of their silence. Are they privately in pain but reluctant to share their feelings?

I attended a writing critique group last week and didn’t hear a single poem in which the poet expressed their thoughts and feelings about Gaza.

I went to a musical soirée in the home of a highly regarded cellist, and neither the dancer, the musicians, nor the audience had a word to say or a note to play about Gaza.

I attended a vigil in support of the people of Gaza; about 15 gray-haired elders were there with signs — in a town of over 46 thousand residents.

Why didn’t more people show up? Were they too busy? Afraid of being called antisemitic by neighbors and friends? Simply not interested? Indifferent? Think the only good Arab is a dead Arab? Occupied with issues of greater importance…to them?

Still, what is happening in Gaza calls for a collective, all hands-on-deck response. It’s happening right under our noses, a click away on the internet — Israel’s nonstop killing, its inhumane denial of food, medicine, fuel, electricity for the people of Gaza. Its targeting of medical facilities, shelters, bakeries, telecommunications, waste-disposal and water-treatment systems, schools, mosques, apartment buildings. All of which is made possible by generous endowments from its greatest benefactor, the United States, whose leader is more than happy to make sure Israel has the tools it needs to slaughter men, women, children in the name of…self-defense.

My employer has issued an official directive for how to write about the conflict in any of the documents we produce. It’s perfectly fine to refer to the “Israel-Hamas war.” You know, the one in which over 70% of the casualties are women and children — in other words, noncombatants. Innocents. Like my friends and family. Like your friends and family.

Mothers, children, infants slain for the sake of a Greater Israel.

In Gaza.


With the active support of our own government.
With the active support of our own government.
With the active support of our own government.
With the active support of our own government.

Some may call it loyalty to an old and reliable ally.
Some may call it protecting our assets, Israel being one of them.
Some may call it just retribution for the crimes of Hamas.
Some may call it ridding the world of another terrorist entity.

I am not alone in calling it what it is…genocide.
The extermination of a people
for the sake of a Greater Israel
as defined by Yahweh, the Heavenly Landlord.

Shame on you, Israel.
Shame on you, America.
Shame on you, members of Congress who refuse to take a stand in defense of the Palestinian people by calling for an end to Israel’s bloody assault,

and for the arrest and prosecution of Israeli government officials responsible for crimes against humanity, war crimes, and genocide.

It’s not enough to call for a humanitarian truce.
It’s not enough to call for a ceasefire.
It’s not enough to end the war.

Even when the bombing and the shelling end,
who will care for the thousands of widows,
the thousands of orphans,
the thousands of children
burned by white phosphorous,
lacerated by shrapnel,
nearly crushed to death under rubble,
shot by snipers,
blinded, paralyzed, severely wounded?

Who will care for all those who have been
terrorized, traumatized, displaced, humiliated,
left bereft of home, of family, of community?

I stand with all those seeking an independent Palestine
finally free from Israel’s barbwire stranglehold.

الحرية الاب

Freedom now

George Capaccio is a writer, poet, and performer now living in Durham, North Carolina since migrating from the Boston area. Beginning in the 90s, his concern for the people of Iraq under U.S.-imposed sanctions led him to make numerous trips to Iraq as a witness to the effects of these sanctions. At home, he advocated for their lifting through writing and public speaking while raising funds for families in Baghdad whom he knew and with whom he continues to communicate.

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