My thoughts strayed tonight whilst washing dirty dishes,
to the bride of Gaza, and her shattered dreams,
the white dress, turned to ashes.
To the anxious groom,
who will not smell her sweet perfume,
as he untangles her hair.
To the expectant mum, and her swelling womb
which holds one more soul, for Israel to steal
or as I pray, to bring peace to full bloom.
To the proud father,
who will never hold his daughter
or hear her laughter.
To the newborn baby,
who will never wear the hat
his grandmother lovingly knitted
To the student who was supposed to graduate,
but will never receive his certificate
To all these the people who normally symbolize life and hope in society
the bride and groom,
the pregnant women and first time father,
who were all slaughtered,
please ask Al Ghafur to forgive me, for writing this poem
and for letting you die.