A Room of My Own: The old war comes to "an end"

Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words, CCXLI: "the wars, old and new"

"Now we're trapped in a new war." An aid worker draws a breath and resumes in an uneven voice, "the battlefield is in the wounded bodies of survivors, in the broken hearts of mothers, in the hungry eyes of children, in the distant stares of elderly people. We're just fighting to live, simply to live, and we have nothing to do so..." Before the aid worker finishes her answer, boom, boom, boom interrupts the interview. The TV screen goes black.

chilly rain

stalks the edge of his dream

my Gazan friend

still waiting for the phone call

I know won't come

Added: Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words, CCXLII: "on my hands and knees"

On My Hands and Knees

"I crawled through a crowd of hundreds to scavenge a small bag with scraps of food ..." The gray-haired man pauses for a moment to take a deep breath, then continues, "I had to gather whatever had fallen to the ground -- lentils, rice, chickpeas, even flour mixed with dirt. My bones ached and my heart beat fast; I almost collapsed due to exhaustion. However, in my mind the sound of my children's hunger grew louder and darker ..."

a sack of flour

on the muddy roadside

just beyond reach

of an old Gazan's hand

in a pool of blood