Mujeeb Jaihoon’s passionate elegy on the martyrdom of the 4 Palestinian boys killed by Israeli warships while playing football on the beach (2014)
Last night, my little one,
On my shoulders climbed.
As he laid aside
The game on his play-pad.
He noticed the beach-boys’ pic
On my timeline.
Asked he, whereto and
Wherefrom they ran.
‘Running for life,
Away from death,’
Replied I.
‘Did they win
The race?’
Asked he,
With a curious face.
I had no answer
For my sweet one.
How could I disclose
Death’s win?
He was too little
To even realize Life.
How then could he
Recognize Death?
‘These young angels
Had no rockets to launch,
Nor even rocks
At the enemy to toss.
They were just
Little Davids,
Armored with nothing
But innocence.
How then could
The Goliath kill—
With wounds
Their bodies fill?
They were the children
Of the then native hosts,
Mean men who now call
The hostile guests.
My sweet dear!
All we can do
Is vote and tweet,
Lay on our comfy couch
And pray in words quiet.
I watched my son
Curled in sleep
And thought of the father
Of Gaza’s playful angels.
How many more angels
Have to lose their smile?
How many more bodies
Need to lose their life-glitter?
The spineless system
Has tied our hands and voice.
They wash their hands off
This mess having no choice.
Their loss is ours
And our conscience’.
We failed in courage,
They won in innocence.
We hang our heads
And hearts in shame,
Even as we shed tears
In their name.
Unable to move
A finger,
Nor even a worthy
Word utter.
Though our prayers
In palatial mosques did no good,
These young heroes
Shall play on paradise’ ground.
Jul 19, 2014. Ramadan 21 1435. Edit Apr 2024
