Buffer zone – the killing fields of Gaza


The old woman has seen
enough sunrises to wrinkle the earth
her skin has the memory of trees
her head used to balance
jars of fresh milk
when the fields were still open
when her feet treaded bare
on homely land
and the livestock were still alive
grazing on the horizon.

Today her face
resembles her house
pockmarked with bullets
yet standing her ground
under the sun
feeding sheep hay and imported food pellets
keeping an eye on the barren horizon
where life once thrived
and her soul will forever wander.


We had wells over there
now spitting blood in our violated fields
we used to walk till the trees
now where there is a razor sharp desert
feeding barbed-wire colonies
foreign bodies in terrorised outfits;
you know I could love them,
I swear I could
I would call them by name
and hand them fresh mint
and some cheese
even from behind a wire fence
but their hands are all occupied
gripping their heavy guns
handcuffed to fear.


They greet us with gunshots 
from behind a smokescreen
they just don't get it
it's us greeting them
in our house.

As they run out of bullets
we run out of patience.

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2 thoughts on “Buffer zone – the killing fields of Gaza

  1. Pingback: في المنطقة العازلة |

  2. Reblogged this on Hanasalah's Blog-FREEDOMWAY and commented:
    The Buffer zone of Gaza in poem

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