The hundreds who have died there
They have done it without having a face or name
But the spirits of him spin on my chest
They don't rest
They ask for their voice, to recover their gaze
Touch the water of the Mediterranean
Biting the dates
Return to coffee with cardamom.
The fire fell on the displaced
Hundreds of them were refugees
Beings piled up in the hospital courtyard
poor among the poor
Living souls among the rocks of hell
The doctor Ghassan Abu Sitá
He says the ceiling fell on his operating room
They say it was a war accident
They say it was pure cruelty
we lack so much love of humanity
war hardly hurts or overwhelms
The names of the victims are silent
The dreams of an old fisherman do not appear
The poem of a pregnant mother
children's toys
The tears on a father's face
In short, what makes them human and not just numbers.
I promise that I will look for your sparkles
To celebrate their lives
Reveal their faces, their ideas
The love that shone in his eyes
The tragedy of more than two million civilians
Prisoners in besieged Gaza
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