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spitting fire

I used to cry a lot before, but now I know better.

No one will hear me when the bombs come, so why bother?

I stick around with the other ones. You know, ones like me.

No mum. No dad. No roof. Totally free.


But they don’t all stay around. Because you keep moving.

You need to run. Run faster. And keep running.

That whistle in the air and the bang that follows.

Arms and legs in different places. A house now empty. Hollow.


I say my prayers before I sleep, but my fears keep me awake.

People say “prepare yourself, make no mistake“.

But I’m tired of hiding, of not eating, of sleeping rough.

This land is home but now it’s hell. I’ve had it now. Enough!


The wolf came cloaked as a sheep and the shepherd’s hand was bitten.

We screamed for help but no one listened. Not BBC, Obama or Great Britain.

Smoke in the sky, blood on the streets, filth in our water.

And the wolves keep coming. Having a laugh as they slaughter.


I hope someone hears us. I hope people know.

We aren’t the bad guys, all we’ve thrown are stones.

But victory will be ours. That time will come, the hour.

But until then, the sky will keep spitting fire.


© Macena Chowdhury 2014

#FreePalestine #GazaUnderAttack #SavePalestine #SaveGaza #KillingInGaza


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