The Lost Children of Gaza

The crimson sky, vast and high, made way for a reluctant dawn
The morning light, soft and shy, peeped through my window blind
I was woken from a dream, pounding heart, my body in cold sweat
I was walking in a faraway land, charred alleys, grey all over all under
It was quiet and lonely, no air, no birds, no trees, no streets, no homes
A small hand caught my sleeve and asked, “have you seen my baba?”
Her skin was grey, curls brown, yet cheeks pink, eyes sparkled in blue
She was little, lost and alone, wandering in the ruins, fearless but free
Sorry I don’t know your baba; I am lost and alone just like you, I said
I walked ahead in a haze, and heard a soft scream: “Mama, is that you?”
Sorry I am not your mama; I am lost too and also alone just like you, I said
I walked some more and saw a pack of yellow frills tucked away in the dust
From the rubble a boy emerged and said “Alia won’t come out of hiding”
His tear-streaked cheeks were a tale of an unfinished game of hide and seek
Sorry Alia won’t come out, stop looking for her, the game is done, I said
I walked until I could not anymore, the air was heavy, the earth was dead
I sat down, the ashes flickering fire, whispering cries, the rubble stirred alive
Buried dreams, untold stories, unfinished meals, prayers unsaid, all came alive
I thought this is where children’s innocence hides, this where their childhood died
This dawn is scarred, the sun, the moon and the stars bear witness to the carnage
The night was long, grateful it has ended and so has the dream, shaken but awake
In my warm bed on a cozy night, I met the children of the ruins, sorry was all I said
Such shame and guilt, to the children of Gaza, we owe more than a sorry, I said
From the ruins of the lost, the shadows of the past, a future would rise
From the fallen cries, new light will shine, new hope will arise

Samina Salim Ph.D.,Associate Professor, Department of Pharmacological & Pharmaceutical Sciences, University of Houston