To Gaza: A Pathetic Psalm

Because,

       Sometimes poetry can't wait, or maybe it can but I can't... Poetic activism remaining silent as the peace of so many is shattered... I think not.

I buried,

    The near shrapnel of memory ache capacity full journal of my face in between desired amnesia empty temples folded in paper solace for the ending prayer clipped hands, Watching land strip walking terrorism mined alive ghosts bordered by hate on all sides protest their flight into death's abyss... For those that yet remained de facto status as they who'll soon to be filled chalk discriminated against wondering phantom outlines.

In lieu of our participation in,
Honouring war over life...