The following is a poem I wrote about a month ago regarding the situation in Gaza and, more specifically, about the killing of 4 boys on a beach. Read and share…
8 players. 1 pitch. 4 boys a side.
Sounds like some kind of advert for Nike
Without the floodlights.. or referees
Just playing with heart, playing for pride
‘I’ll be Neymar’ – Muhammed Ramiz
Skips one.. skips two.. and slots it with ease
‘Then I’m Ronaldo!’ The young boy said
As he gallops off, into the breeze
Boy of just 10, Zakaria Ahed
Watched by crowds, if not all in his head
He gives it his all, right from the start
Filling the defenders hearts full of dread
Run for minutes. Hours. Time plays no part.
Only clock present. Tick of the heart.
Blue becomes red. Day turns to eve.
Such glorious scenes have to be art.
‘First to 10 wins. Let’s keep this one brief’
Such reasoned words, from Ahed Atif
The score’s 9 all, rather quite rare
A time for heroes. A time to believe.
‘Cross the ball!’
A shout in the air.
Determined to try. Daring to dare.
Steadies himself. Eyesight is locked.
Ready to strike. Trigger is cocked.
Ball soars in. Tearing the sky
He leaps into
Ready to fly
‘Overhead Kick!’ the crowd goes wild
No one can stop him, he’s Muhammed Ismail !
Hangs there forever. Time holds
Oblivious as to what happens next
Foot meets ball. Then comes a
Smashing the floor. He greets the sand.
A piece of shrapnel.. Rips open his chest
He shudders he shakes then lays down to rest.
Eyes on fire. Vision gone red.
No screams. No thoughts.
As for the rest, they scream and they run
But moving targets are always more fun
Crows are hungry to join in the fray
As 4 little boys rot and decay
4 innocent lives lost from the world
With stories that were still yet to unfurl
4 little boys…. Does it not make you upset?
That their laughter was deemed that much of a threat?
4 helpless children. Lay dead on the ground
As the World looks on without making a sound
But amongst all the flesh and the entrails and the slime
Lays a blood spattered ball… Just over the line.