A Child Speaks From Gaza | Sagari Chhabra

I am under a rubble,

without water or bread;

my mother and father

are lying face down, dead.

My little sisters, aged five and seven,

have been taken as hostages

and will soon be sent to jannat, heaven.

 

I do not know how long I have to live,

for no one has anything to give.

The electricity has been cut off,

all roads lead to the morgue,

there is something in vogue,

geo-politics of the rogue,

playing out in a frenzy

on a strip of land called Gaza,

where in a spiral of violence

Generals are going gaga,

over changing its shape,

while we live on its nape.

 

What did I do

to be lying here,

under slabs of concrete, smoke and debris;

shards of glass have entered my body;

blood is seeping to the ground,

but lying here I have found,

a secret;

let me share it with you:

nothing matters more than life,

and a shared humanity beyond this strife;

work for peace,

beyond this well-oiled machinery of power –

those generals with uniformed medals

reeking of blood and entrenched mud;

there are no heroes in war,

only grisly gore;

I have no days of sunrise

left to me anymore.

 

I am thirteen years old

and sure to die,

but the smell of gas

will become a cloud

and turn into a greenhouse shroud.

Farewell my friend,

You too will meet this end.

Sagari Chhabra
12 October 2023