PALESTINE

In a village once, ablaze in fervent plight,
For every village somewhere burns in night,
Yet even if it's not your own, you see,
Still, it remains a part of you and me.

Within that village, a hollow child's despair,
With ebony eyes, he draws you to his lair,
And though he's not your kin by flesh or name,
His anguish still connects your hearts aflame.

The creatures that could flee have sought their flight,
The trapped ones serenade their hunger's bite,
In houses ruined, gardens choked with sorrow,
And a small stone beneath a scorched oak's shadow.

Who'll tend the leaves upon the grandfather's grave?
Who'll beckon him with morning prayer to save?
And where have those, who once in this abode,
Slept and dined on this soil, all gone, bestow'd?

So let us not forget the village's plea,
For in its flames and tears, our unity.
Each village, burning, speaks to humankind,
In every child's eyes, our hearts entwined.

Imran Nazeer
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