These are poems about Palestinian children and their mothers...
Epitaph for a Palestinian Child
by Michael R. Burch
I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.
......
If the six million Jews who died in the Holocaust
saw their descendants treat an ethnic minority as second-class citizens,
what do you think they'd feel?
And if they saw them relegate these people
to poor ghettos, deprive them of basic rights,
and then systematically steal their lands,
what do you think they'd feel?
And if they heard them refuse to help these people
have a homeland of their own, claiming there’s no room,
while they live on lands taken from these very people
......
Why do we allow so many others
To control our precious lives...
Why do we let manipulative parents
Slice us apart with unforgiving knives...
We are both grown damn adults
Who just happened to fall in love...
We allowed our beautiful friendship
To become a precious gift from Above...
......
A percentage of me has to hell been consigned
by the ever raging zionists' war machine.
To each livid soldier, a mandate is assigned
to uproot terror where multitudes are confined.
Torrents of explosives have swept my landscapes clean.
Churches, mosques, schools have all to mighty vengeance bowed.
Stricken mothers wail uncontrollably aloud.
Itinerancy pervades my horror stricken crowd,
whilst my kids toy with explosives, carnage and ruin.
Survivors will take shelter from snipers shooting
......
These are poems about Palestinian children and their mothers...
Epitaph for a Palestinian Child
by Michael R. Burch
I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.
......
If the six million Jews who died in the Holocaust
saw their descendants treat an ethnic minority as second-class citizens,
what do you think they'd feel?
And if they saw them relegate these people
to poor ghettos, deprive them of basic rights,
and then systematically steal their lands,
what do you think they'd feel?
And if they heard them refuse to help these people
have a homeland of their own, claiming there’s no room,
while they live on lands taken from these very people
......
A percentage of me has to hell been consigned
by the ever raging zionists' war machine.
To each livid soldier, a mandate is assigned
to uproot terror where multitudes are confined.
Torrents of explosives have swept my landscapes clean.
Churches, mosques, schools have all to mighty vengeance bowed.
Stricken mothers wail uncontrollably aloud.
Itinerancy pervades my horror stricken crowd,
whilst my kids toy with explosives, carnage and ruin.
Survivors will take shelter from snipers shooting
......
Why do we allow so many others
To control our precious lives...
Why do we let manipulative parents
Slice us apart with unforgiving knives...
We are both grown damn adults
Who just happened to fall in love...
We allowed our beautiful friendship
To become a precious gift from Above...
......