The Lament of Palestine
Bukhara region, Karakul district, School No.1, 8th grade student
Mother, don’t look to the sky — look from the heavens,
Every dawn now spills blood, no longer light.
Children weep, but the ears remain deaf,
The world is silent — as if it sees no sight.
The earth trembles, yet it is no quake,
This is a lightning that makes hearts shake.
Not cannonballs, but bullets hit the young,
And in a mother’s embrace, the world shut its eyes.
Peace never came to rest upon your roof,
Between the calls to prayer, screams echo loud.
Instead of flowers, heavy stones are placed,
On the grave — dewdrops of blood drip down.
At night, no angels visit in dreams,
But fear enters, dressed in black.
The dream to live has long been buried,
There’s no support left — not even in prayers.
Boboqulova, your lament about the war in Palestine brings tears to my eyes. As you so aptly note, dawn no longer brings optimism: “Every dawn spills blood.” What’s more, “the world shuts its eyes.” Instead of worldwide outcry, the world watches, an entire ethnic group starves, and food-bringers are bombed. Your ending line, “There’s no support left, not even in prayer,” is a cry of despair. I hope people read your poem and think about it.