A Festival and Palestine

A Festival and Palestine
Watch and Listen to a reading of the poem by me.


“Come on now, let us go!
It is Eight o’ clock already,
there are so many things
still left for us to check and buy
or mark for future purchases
if the price seems too high
and we must return home, as well,
before midnight to eat and fast
from the sunrise to sunset, tomorrow,
for in our hearts we are God fearing, after all!”
My wife was nudging me.
Though I heard all the words she said,
I could not register
even a single one, as I watched
two vastly different lines
of human beings in front of me;
one on the TV screen,
another on the road below,
mostly families with children and women too…
But there the similarities expired
and sharp contrasts unfurled;
the one on the road seems happy
and in harmony with the world,
shopping for an imminent festival,
while the one on the screen is filled
with tiny bodies torn apart
by a human cruelty!
Then she jerked me out of my reverie, saying
there were others if I didn’t want to go…
So I looked up and with some efforts said,
“Sure darling it’s alright, you go ahead,
this year I don’t feel like celebrating
with so many little angels killed in Palestine!”