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Anson, Maine    I am a young man (age 15) that likes to write on occasion and uses immaculate details when possible. If you read my work I …
lucidfeelings
I wish I was good with words
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Poems

Julian Delia Sep 2018
PART II: A GLASS CEILING DRIPPING WITH BLOOD

Mohanad Younis, of Gaza City;
Where the sand is stained with blood
As the world feigns pity.
Broken families, unspoken tragedies –
The order of everyday life.
He was born amidst chaos and strife,
To a divorcing husband and wife.

If life were lived in peace,
This dissolution would’ve been a release.
Not much more, not much less –
A family’s lore, a decision to digress.
In war-ravaged land, however,
One needs every helping hand,
Especially a soul that was so clever.

Such a curious, voracious mind needed to understand;
A furious, rapacious search,
Unexplained conundrums to unravel and unwind.
Why do we exist?
Why do we fight and resist?
Is it worth living with all these scars on my wrists?
Does anybody outside Palestine care?
Will they keep on watching?
Or will they be unable to bear?

Of this and much more Mohanad must’ve thought,
As he sat at the Marna House Hotel,
Smoking cigarettes, freshly bought.
A student at al-Azhar, a mild-mannered pharmacist,
A prudent man who would have gotten far.
An admirer of Bassel al-Araj, another victim of oppression –
An inspirer, a brother who alleviated his depression.
Hunted down and killed by the IDF,
Another pacifist murdered for being an activist.

One figure of many who died;
One of those who did not want to hide.
Mohanad wasn’t a resistance fighter –
He felt that such persistence did not make their burdens lighter.
Instead, he wished to make his mind brighter,
And perhaps have family of his own.

He was in love, and wanted to get married,
But life was rough, and warranted a future far more harried.
The final twist of horror?
Having the intellect to apply for University,
And deserving the respect needed to obtain a reply,
Yet not being allowed to leave the city.
That is the news Mohanad had received,
Hopes and dreams suddenly deceived.
Denied a right to education
Because he was born on the wrong end of a cruel fabrication.
The glass ceiling, dripping with blood,
Swallowed his hopes whole like a flood.
Self-explanatory, at this point. Refer to Part I if you're confused...
Zionist father's "lamentation; his sons burial."
The family of an IDF soldier was gathered for his funeral from Rapha rubble. All that was left of him was a small box of his ash remains. Words began to pass over his grave.
"I remember how handsome he looked in uniform," said his mother, "with his matching Helmet  & Pampers." "I remember how brave he was," said his father, "he once neutralized a neonatal intensive care unit without hesitating for a second." "I remember how loving he was," said his daughter, "he once demolished a school for me on my birthday." "I remember how strong he was," said his wife, "every child he faced fell before his might." "I remember him being bigger," said his son, "What happened to him?". "Apparently," stated his mother,

"He triggered a *****-trap while plundering a house in Gaza."

"Well, I guess he died as Israel lives" stated his father.
"And how is that?"

Asked the others?
"By burglarizing someone else's home after proudly murdering all palestinian family members "

Oh! Said his grandmother

"Every muslim Palestinian, any non zionist jewish birth poses an existential threat to his new and future born children, thats why

"this IDF soldier's remains are buried among genocidal war criminal hereos in Izrahell."
~~~~~
Izrael:August 2024.
~~~~
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