Broken stars

We do not know
How to think about
The genocide in Gaza.
We do not have a way
To understand the broken stars
In Gaza’s sky.
We do not know
How to make sense
Of the bloody sands
On Gaza shores.
With utter disbelief
And nausea
We listen to reports
Of rescue workers
Gathering pieces of dead children.
We watch videos
Of Israeli soldiers
Celebrating their torture
And rape
Of Palestinian men and women
And are heartbroken
That human decency can be
So lightly set aside.
We look at photographs
Of the boneyard called Gaza
Wondering how many bodies
Lie silently howling
Beneath its 140 square miles
Of rubble and ruin.
Our minds’ eyes cannot unsee the blood
On the sands of Gaza’s shores.
Our hearts convulse in grief
For Gaza’s shattered stars.

Buff Whitman-Bradley’s poetry has been widely published in print and online journals. He has a new book coming out from Finishing Line Press, A Friendly Little Tavern Somewhere Near the Pleiades, which you can order at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/a-friendly-little-tavern-somewhere-near-the-pleiades-by-buff-whitman-bradley/ Read other articles by Buff.