How can this be?
Too deep to understand, too deep to digest.
How can this be?
How can you turn away, and act as if you were blind to babies being burned, and buried in the rubble, decimated lifeless tinted souls on your vision screen.
There aren’t enough adjectives to describe the horrific images.
How can this be?
The screams of death in realtime stays with me.  
For I will never forget.... you too should never forget.  
The screams of death echo and rains on me like the blues.
What a tragedy.  
Too deep to understand, too deep to digest.  
How can this be?

A promise made, a vow—unbelievably grand
Until tanks and footsteps disturb the land
Handshakes firm, papers signed
Yet missiles and bullets still lag behind

Peace is non-transferable, war is our own,
Limited liability for the lives that we've blown
For threat prevention, we may reinforce,
Bombs will drop without a hint of remorse

When the world begins to ask
We say we honored it, our assured task
A truce! A pause! A peaceful day!
We’ll bomb them all by the end of May

We reserve the right to reverse the ceasefire
As bodies fall to the chorus of our choir
Diplomacy’s a practiced art—
Where ceasefires end before they start

His death (is) not Palestine's loss,
         nor (was) it Israel's gain,
           because (is) is present
            and (was) has passed,
     so his echo (will) reverberate
                from (now) until
       (eternity) on dome and hill.

In lands where ancient echoes call,
'Neath olive trees that stand so tall,
The question lingers, heavy, cast,
Israel God's chosen or self chosen—vast.

A land that's waged a war, it seems,
Against both civilians and Hamas streams,
No line drawn 'twixt  darkness or light,
A struggle that endures through night.

The Palestinian people bear the toll,
Of a conflict that consumes the whole,
Paying the price of an unfocused hate,
In a history's shadow, they contemplate.

As though blinded by the night so deep,
Where tears of mothers silently weep,
For peace, for solace, for wounds to mend,
For a dawn where all hearts can blend.

"I dream of the day I would see the flowers bloom in Palestine", says an ally.
"I dream of the day I would see the flowers again",
cries an old lady from Palestine
"I dream of the day I would see Palestine",
prays a refugee in a faraway country
"I dream of the day when I would not dream and pray that there would be another day for Palestine",
screams a little child in Palestine


And the sun is the witness
The sun knows it all,
it has watched, witnessed and waited...


I dream of the day I would see the flowers bloom in Palestine!
From the bullets bored through little children's ribs,
to the bloodied blouses hanging in the clothesline.

I dream of the day I would see flowers again!
From the people's laughters and childish ease,
to the tears and pain I can't even begin to imagine.

I dream of the day I would see Palestine!
From the river, in the desert, in the colorful markets,
to the sea, in the beach, taking our sweet sweet time.

I dream of the day when I would not dream and pray that there would be another day for Palestine!
Because there would only be days of freedom!
Only for the children, for Gaza, mothers, fathers, doctors, soldiers, every Palestinian!
Days that are theirs!
Days and endless days are all there is!
And it is all theirs!


And the sun is the judge and the jury
The sun grants it,
the justice for every injury, freedom for every perjury...

Standing and looking up from underneath these Allah made magnificent trees while waiting for the next bus to come
with all of their complexities, dimensions, features
each branch artistically and uniquely designed
many almost hook like in shape
variations of pink colored carnation flowers hanging delicately from them in light, medium, and dark shades
with pin drop size black dot on each flower's stem                                                             ­                      
complemented by green and copper tone leaves
I see All Blue Skies and think they should see All Blue Skies, too

Looking up, I think it isn't fair that I see what I see
All Blue Skies and people of Palestine, people of Gaza don't see the same and don't have the same

Do they even have a moment of pause
a chance to look up at what's above  
an opportunity to marvel at something
to rest a bit

And if they have lived or survived to be able to look above their heads                                                        
isn­­­’t it often
that they see gray or black and not All Blue
Is it not rubble from deadly bombs that they see falling down on them
for many, many not to live life as they were meant to live it

Looking up at the All Blue Skies from underneath these marvelous trees
I shake my head right to left, left to right and with expressions on my face I wish I myself could see, think this isn’t fair

When we look up at the All Blue Skies above our heads and wonder why our blue skies don’t feel as blue
It’s because Palestine’s All Blue Skies aren’t there
It’s because people of Palestine and people of Gaza don’t have them that we don’t relate to them and their long standing, ongoing struggle
Because they don’t have what we have, we don’t see them as one of us
But like Nelson Mandela said, We know too well that our freedom is incomplete without the freedom of the Palestinians.

We have a lot of work to do
with us unified and with proper guidance by moral leadership
We have a lot to do
So that All Blue Skies are had by all and felt by all

We should all work in significant, high priority ways – be the Abds,
be the servants, be the slaves that Allah created us to be for Him
so that All Blue Skies for Palestine’s Human Lives are seen clearly, seen vividly, from everywhere on the globe
And afterwards, when we look up wherever we are at the All Blue Skies sitting above our heads,
we’ll feel not blue  

By: Najwa Kareem