At Twilight

(as I reflect on Gaza and other worn torn places)

 

As the evening descends, 

 

Some relax, 

peaceful and safe, 

contented with a good day well lived, 

a full belly, 

enjoying a favorite beverage 

in the company of loved ones, 

full of hope for the next day 

to bring 

more to accomplish, 

more to celebrate, 

feeling blessed.

 

Others fear, 

wondering how they will survive another night, 

seeking shelter among the rubble, 

stomachs empty, 

sounds of war in the distance, 

flashing lights on the horizon, 

searching the ruins for familiar faces, 

questioning heaven, 

“Why have we have been forsaken?”, 

despairing for another day of the same.

 

As dawn breaks, 

 

Some arise, 

rested, 

anticipating the day, 

welcoming life, 

ready to break the fast, 

to engage the world, 

to contribute, 

to produce, 

to earn, 

to build toward the future.

 

Others reluctantly continue the nightmare, 

exhausted, 

barely able to stand, 

but yet they must, 

or perish, 

to seek food, 

to seek family, 

to escape the violence, 

to try to hold on to the last shred of hope 

for a better day in some remote, 

unimaginable time 

beyond this present hell.

 

Why?