Among the white, white sands
I hear the shouts and screams below,
As colourful figures race so fast,
Carrying hope, carrying fear, carrying their small child,
The red, red blood dripping from their tiny hands.
The fear and the cries fly on the stifling winds,
Asking why, why, what have we done,
Why, why, won’t it stop?
The destruction, the overhead drone attacks, the missile fire, and the land explosions,
How can we live?
We run, hold out our shaking hands for grains of rice
For life giving water.
As the bombs drop around us
Falling in the dry white sand.
They carry the stiff, white shroud,
Lined up to pray for the lost souls,
Soon there will be only empty silence
Soon there will be no one shouting below.
PK
September 2025
