Gaza

In vain I search
for words
to wrap around genocide
and slip the truth of it
inside the human heart

like medicine,
bitter medicine, we’d otherwise
avoid
to our own
eventual
pale
anemic
death.

The truth of it –
tough and gamy and full of blood
tender blood
of innocents
children whose eyes were bright
before they were bludgeoned
whose hands were soft like petals
before shrapnel shredded through
whose hearts were full to the brim
with love
before the fear, terror, agony, grief
before the rubble collapsed
killing everyone who ever loved them
everyone on whom
their own existence
depends

I sit to write
because otherwise
the tears block up my vessels, inside –
turn to clots, block the flow of
life inside
until I too
crumple
like a bombed hospital
falling to earth
with screams inside

until my unborn children
are borne down to death
like new babies, cord still pulsing
blasted out of this world
the moment they entered it

like a father zipped into a body bag
arm cradling his infant daughter
together in death
going to earth

I reach for words
to wrap around genocide
and slip the truth of it
inside the human heart

where maybe, just maybe
the pulsing warmth of love, grief, witness
can give life to their memories

where maybe, just maybe
Truth, and they,
can both live
again.