By S. K
Fri, 11, 23

we walk with the screams of children, and the groans of mothers pulsating over and over in our ears....



We walk on the shattered glass of our broken windows

There, on the other side,

time changes, hours pass, and it gets darker,

the sky takes off its dim dress, then the morning arrives,

but here where I live, and breathe, life wears its black dress constantly,

to mourn the labour of my land,

which took a long time.

Here, the hanging clock, in my room is broken,

not only this one, everyone’s clock is broken here,

my mother keeps saying:

everyone is waiting for the elixir,

we’ve had it with the grief and agony,

in this holy land we sleep and wake up on the sound of bombing and shooting

so the first light of day rises in the evening,

lighting up the sky with the blood of martyrs,

here death sleeps not far from us,

we all walk towards freedom, towards hope,

we walk on the shattered glass of our broken windows,

we walk on stones that once were a house, carrying stories and secrets,

we walk with the screams of children, and the groans of mothers pulsating over and over in our ears.

Nadine Murtaja, a young Palestinian poet wrote this poem, and it was posted on October 16, 2023 by Maria Liv on

Conscience muzzled

By Sirajuddin Aziz

So it is these days,

My heart is filled

With vast sadness

And painful grief

Limbs, arms, neck and heads,

Separated eternally

Lie scattered on streets

Buried under bombed homes

The corpses lie denuded

The heartrending shrieks

Of infants, boys and girls

Echoes in tormented Gaza

Reverberating all night long,

But, alas,

Human conscience is deaf

Lulled to sleep by intoxication

Of power and self preservation.

Blindfolded lies humanity,

Mocks the mourning

Of those deprived of,

Possessions, relatives and friends

The poor hapless Gazians,

Women, men and children.

She yells to no listeners,

The black tresses covering

That bloodstained corpse

Are similar to my mother’s

Is that lifeless body, my mother?

None to wipe her tears,

No comforter in sight,

Fathers, brothers, uncles, aunts,

All and more,

Lie buried.

With no funeral service,

She pulls her blood soaked,


And shrouds her mother.

Life is sold cheap,

Death reigns supreme.

Humans maim humanity

It is then,

Divine retribution is nigh,

Silence is criminal, but

Voice of soul, conscience

Cannot be muzzled.

The scars will hurt,

And remain active and live

The perpetrators of the,

Dance of death

Shall inherit curse, doom

And unrelenting pain

A recompense for the

Misdeeds against the innocent.

The valiant children,

Have a rich history

Of sacrifice and martyrdom,

The callous spew,

Of bombardment and bullets,

Cannot shake their resolve,

Nor stop their

March to freedom.

Victory is near, not far.

Twist, tremble and turn

They will in the inferno

Lit up by the blood of

Innocent infants.

Martyrs never die,

Their cries will pierce

Hearts and souls

Now and forever

Gaza cannot be pulverised

Or silenced.

Compiled by SK