“Whenever I hear the name of a child that was randomly massacred,” Sarah Iqelan

Whenever I hear the name of a child that was randomly massacred,
with no explanation and no crime.
I close my eyes for a second.
I close my eyes and visualize,
them under the rubble, their last moment of consciousness,
body bloody, face dusty with confused eyes.
I think of their dreams and desires.
I close my eyes and visualize,
them climbing a stairway to heaven,
with clean clothes, smiley faces,
leaving the cruel earth behind,
knowing no fear or hunger,
I close my eyes and visualize,
that this white butterfly is someone’s soul saying hello,
as they reach the sky,
I say a prayer,
and I let myself cry.

Sarah Iqelan is a poet from Gaza. Her work appears in the Gaza Poets Society anthology My Death is Not a Song for You to Sing.

Artwork by Maisara Baroud.