No pause for the dead

Two years of unfathomable violence in Gaza, Palestine.

Names of the deceased
blur together, one after another,
like beads slipping off a string,
scattering on the floor
in all directions.

There’s no time to mourn
those who are lost,
no end in sight
of the catastrophe
that unfolds.

The beads are gone—
slipped through my grasp,
the names are lost, uncounted, a blur,
and the world offers
no pause for the dead.

Visualising Palestine

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