ALLAN KOLSKI HORWITZ
Gaza: two poems
THE FINAL SOLUTION: THE FINAL SLAUGHTER
Herded from burnt villages
herded into The Strip
herded again from newly ruined cities
to bare beaches where they lie on sand
rest before the next wave
of bombs
people are herded
all combatants civilians
all civilians combatants
the herders destroy them
herding from ruin to ruin
resistance resisted
with wave after wave
of bombs
herded because guilty
of thinking they exist
they persist in wanting
to resist
herds march south through the ruins
north through the ruins
from pillar of salt
to pillar of fire the fire
feeding on fire
herds moving lines and lines moving
across the Strip
across the ruins of the Strip
and there at the edges of the Strip
those who prophesy
ruin for the hard men
who rain fire on cities resist
the prophets resist
at the gates of the ruined cities
prophets full of fear
full of sorrow
full of hate for the hard men
they prophesy
slaughter
herds slaughtered day and night
fire raining
all smoke
all crying
still
the hard men resist
resist
the cries for regard for mercy
rain fire
across the Strip
rust the keys of dead houses
dry the last drop of oil
watch the last grape wither
the herds unheard
ashes and lamentation
the hard herders smell victory in the rotting corpses
the prophets sing histories
that no longer echo
words thrown back
with the thrust of the sword
engraving their foreheads
with the blood of Cain
prophets wander in the ruins burning
with pity and righteous anger
for no angel
greets the souls of those who resisted
while destroyers kiss their swords
and blood reddens the beach
the civilians are many
the combatants limitless
unlimited tears of rage
oh herders destroyers
will there be no end to our slaughter?
cry the ruined cities
the hungering herds made mute
shuffling through the ruins
as night after night
day following day
the Elders with top ranking
in the Fortune 500
buy presidents in the towering empires
the sullied democracies
the corrupted autocracies
they pay presidents to burn the cities
trample the children
but Gaza
lives as it dies
vowing to reclaim its history
rebuild
Gaza once taken in chains to Sinai
Gaza will again carve the Tablets
suffer the agony of Moses and the manger Christ
the right-seeking Mahomet
And me?
may I look away from the blazing tablets?
the puppets
the dancing hordes
the foaming lips of those
who lay waste to the last of the ruins?
the two triangled flag of the Hebrews
blue star upon blue star
against the white of the heavens
oh Shelah
speak
speak to these destroyers
speak to those who hate life
but if you stay silent
I will voice you
walk your truth
try to check the power of their blood lust
I will leave the cool shade under my vine
and live in the ruins
I descendant of the Shelah
and the Shoah
I cannot turn my face
cannot turn my feet away
I must witness and hold
up a mirror
bring down fury upon the herders
and their final solution their final slaughter
FOOD BOMBS
Asleep when the bombs came
The bombs took his mother and father
His brother and sister
His aunt and uncle
His nephew his niece
The bombs came and did not leave
They did not leave with the little boy
They left the little boy
Under the rubble
So the little boy remains without his mother and father
His brother and sister
His uncle his aunt
His grandmother
The bombs came and took them and did not leave
The bombs live with him in the rubble
They stay with the shredded limbs
The dead eyes and the severed necks
Of his mother and father
His aunts and his uncles
The bombs live under the rubble
The little boy goes to sleep with the bombs
And in the morning after he wakes in the rubble
He goes walking because he is hungry
Still hungry for living
And the little boy hears noises above
Hears people screaming below:
Food!
Food parcels! No need to be hungry!
And he runs following the people
And while he is hungry and running
The air fills with the airdrop
The air above dripping with food parcels
The air thick with the goodness of those
who also provide bombs for the bombers
And the little boy opens his arms
He is hungry
And the food parcels drop from on high like the kisses of God
Who loves little boys and wants them to eat
And never be hungry
The food parcels drop for the little boy
No more bombs now only food parcels
No more dying mothers and fathers
Only bags and tins of food
For the hungry
And the little boy opens his arms for the food
Thank you thank you God who loves little boys
And the food parcels drop like the bombs dropped
From high
The food parcel bombs drop onto the hungry boy
They drop till he lies crushed in the rubble
Those kisses of God for a terrorist