When the Children of  Palestine Lose Their Teachers and Parents
By Leni Marlina
Amidst the ruins that wail,
We sit in a piercing void,
Our parents have departed,
Perished in the blasts that tore through Palestine's land.
We long for their tender embraces,
Their calming voices amid the shattering explosions,
Now only shadows remain,
Among the fallen walls and blood-stained earth.
Beloved teacher, our guide and heart's beacon,
Now vanished in the consuming flames,
You always came with a sincere affection,
Cherishing and honoring us, your hopeful students in Palestine.
In the classroom once warmed by your smile,
Now filled with dust from the ruins of our learning place,
The floors we once tread with eager spirits,
Now scattered with debris and shards of glass.
In the crowded, silent refugee tents,
We seek peace amidst the howling wind and cold atmosphere,
The ever-blue Gaza Palestine,
Now cloaked in dark smoke and shattered dreams.
From the remains of towers once towering over Palestine,
We recall your gentle, loving gaze,
You taught us with patience and grace,
While outside, the rain of bullets sang a dirge of wrath.
Yet, beneath the grief that cloaks the night,
We are a light that never fades,
Children of Palestine standing firm amid the storm,
With steely resolve, we resist the siege of suffering.
In the pitch-dark night, where stars are hidden,
We sit in somber tents,
With bodies wounded and fragile souls,
Among the rubble that leaves scars and disfigurement on our innocent forms.
