Blood on Our Hands

Wardah Khalid
Jul 23, 2014 · 2 min read
ER at Shifaa Hospital, Gaza, Photo Credit: Gigi Ibrahim (Flickr)

Blood on our hands

Blood on our hands

We all have Gazan blood on our hands

The senseless murders

The executive orders

To destroy sons, daughters, fathers, and mothers

The inhumane soldiers

Who infiltrate meaningless borders

These are all burdens we shoulder

Each orphan child’s cry, each loss of innocent life

Can be traced back to our complacency in the fight

Against the machine, the beast that terrorizes with might

And funds the ghastly missiles that strike

Homes and hospitals in the middle of the night

Tearing off limbs left and right

What crime did these people commit to deserve this plight?

To endure brutal military occupation

No sovereign recognition

Their human rights an afterthought in the eyes of the world’s nations

The suffering a source of twisted jubilation

For enemies who punish without hesitation

And strip precious dignity for their own elevation

“Does anyone care?” they cry, day after day

Hoping someone will hear and take their pain away

But we are too consumed with our work and our play

“Let someone else handle it,” we say with a wave

“After all, isn’t this why taxes and politicians are paid?

Leave us with our cars, our mansions, in our oblivious haze.”

But the screams and cries never seem to end

Until finally our ignorance becomes impossible to defend

From our privileged thrones we are forced to descend

And examine the situation that we must now mend

We protest and search desperately for politicians to befriend

Anyone who can prevent this from becoming a dead end

But our demands may be too little too late

It is nearly impossible now to change the Gazan fate

That was destined years ago to be an apartheid state

By lobbyists and politicians more concerned with their reelection rate

Where were we when the foundation was being laid?

Or during decades of conflict that refused to abate?

Our protests fall on deaf ears

And hearts that are sealed

By money and power that is held so dear

While our brothers and sisters cower in fear

Hoping to see tomorrow, and if they’re lucky, next year

This is the grim reality as it appears

Blood on our hands

Blood on our hands

We all have Gazan blood on our hands

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