AFP photo
By
Prince A McNally
Who Will Cry For Palestine?
We…
The people…
Hereby blindly/ follow/ the leader
Singing the false virtues
of a paper democracy tattered
with lies and hypocracy
Intricately woven in to the fabric
of our flag and our psyches
A flag we so proudly wave
in the winds of blind patriotism
Every Fourth of July
joyously we revel
in unabashed freedom
While ironically, the U.S. and her allies,
Shamelessly suppress the rights of freedom,
in third world countries around the globe.
These countries,
suffer at the hands
of our indifference
of our ignorance
of our silence
of our fear
Perhaps, that’s why no one speaks out against
Israel’s constant bombings of Palestine.
Where tyranny reigns from dark, crimson skies with the steady hand of an angry God.
The whistling thunder of mortars,
from rocket launchers
paint the terrain…with a horrible picture of death…Scattered parts of burning flesh
Lie amongst fallen concrete and twisted metal.
These attacks come and go
like a passing storm
Leaving in it’s wake,
a shattered people
with shattered dreams,
in a broken /war torn /country
A country torn apart…at the seams
by the greed and savagery
of their Isreali oppressors
And yet, the tender minds of the children
still flourish with dreams
They dream of growing up one day
For somehow they imagine themselves
building a future in this chaotic world of
mortar bombs and crumbling buildings
They dream of someday getting married
And having their own families
But for now, they’re just innocent children
Playing children’s games amidst crumbled ruins.
Remarkably, their precious smiles and laughter
seemingly override their fear of this hell
in which they live in. For hell has become their playground…where buildings that were once their homes, their schools, their hospitals
and places of worship…have been reduced to mere rubble and dust…
The shattered remnants of war, of hate, of greed and oppression.
These crumbled buildings now serve as
mass graves for the thousands buried
beneath them… Thousands of innocent civilians…women, men and children.
Some, who may never receive, a decent funeral. Because their families couldn’t find them or even identify them.
And what of the survivors ?
Many of them children…
Some who have lost their limbs
Some who were left as orphans
Who will care for them?
Who will cry for them?
We must not forget about them
We must say their names out loud
We must hold their bright smiling faces
in the palms of our dreams, if only to see them as human beings in our guiltless sleep.
I wonna know…
Who’s crying for Palestine?
Who’s waving their flag for the world to grieve ?
Can someone please tell me
Where’s the consistency?
Where’s the overwhelming show
of sympathy, of empathy, of solidarity?
Where’s the huge outpouring of humanity,
we so eagerly wore on our sleeves
For the one hundred and sixty or so
people murdered in France?
Where are the Palestinian flags
overtly waving on our Facebook profiles,
our twitter pages, and our bumper stickers?
Does the fact, those being slaughtered
are muslims, subconsciously render these atrocities any less worthy, any less… horrific?
The poisonous seeds of ignorance and fear
can often be blinding, thus numbing our hearts
to the struggles of others.
We must ask ourselves this question
To what degree does racism, fear and religion
influence our ability to actually see?
To actually feel compassion and empathy
for those who are truly suffering?
And then…
We must ask ourselves why…
Why is this happening?
And where is the world wide uproar?
Where is the outcry to stop these outrages bombings?
Why are we turning a blind eye
to obvious war crimes?
Clearly this is
GENOCIDE !!!
Ethnic Cleansing!!!
So why are we not angry?!!!
Why are we not outraged?!!!
Why?!!
Why?!!
Why are we not…crying!!!
For the people…
of Palestine?
My Dear Readers
My Dear readers,
Please allow me to begin
First by thanking you all for taking
a moment of your most precious
time to read these humble musings
We poets are such a strange lot
I often find myself contemplating…
What is it that compels us to be this way
To do what we do…
To boldly share our storms…
Allowing our joy, our pain,
And our scandals to lie open and exposed…bare naked upon a bed of in-obscurity
For the sake of humanity…
We selflessly uphold life’s mirror,
Reflecting the burdens of your lives
through our own. For it is our creed, that we openly bleed the blues that others hold so true.
We bear our souls to you,
without a second moment of thought,
Completely gutting our selves
Allowing the blue blood of our truth
To slowly ooze from the whaling
mouths of our pens, upon virgin sheets of paper, eager to absorb the bloodstains of our bleeding footprints, which bellow the essence of our stories…The joy and tortures of our souls.
With brush strokes of creativity, we aspire to paint so beautifully, life’s tragedies…
Shining a light upon the genius of her complexity.
Think of us as literary vampires,
Surviving off the blood/ of our errant pens…
slowly/sucking them/dry
Earnestly we scribe,
with the unwithering hope of shaping someone’s mind, touching someone’s heart…far off in to the future,
long after we’re gone and buried.
Hence my query…
Why are we so utterly consumed,
by this thirst for writing…
Maybe it’s our way of stating our significance…defining our purpose,
within this world.
Or perhaps
It’s our quest for immortality
To live within your hearts…
forever
Bravo, Prince! I had the pleasure of meeting and first hearing Prince perform at the National Beat Poetry Festival, in Connecticut. He is a marvelous lyrical poet whose work often addresses social issues and always pertinent matters of the heart. His delivery is impeccable and truly an unforgettable experience!
Amos, my brother... I humbly apologize for the late reply. I've only just discovered your wonderful comments since revisiting this page. Thank you, my friend, I am truly humbled by your kind words of praise.
Thank you, Fee. I apologize for my tardy reply. I just finished revisiting this page and I'm truly humbled by your kind words. Bless you! :) ?
Prince A McNally forces my brain to find fresh pathways to thought. He challenges me . He makes me want to know more, become more knowledgeable , become more awake. Read. Him.
Prince A McNally is both my mentor and creative writing tutor. I haven't had the opportunity to sit on the same table with him, or even to have a hand shake. I haven't known him for long. But yet I can vouch for his awesome personality within this little space of time I've known him. Even if you'd never come across him personally, he gives himself to you in his works. His personality reflects within every single line of a awesome verse, keeping you glued to read till the end, and over again... Keep going sir Prince. The world needs to read you... ? ? ?