When sunflowers cry

Warning: graphic images.

At the end of WWI, it was said that it was the war to end all wars. Never again will we use chemical weapons that deform and molest the human soul. Never again will we force mothers to bury their sons.

At the end of WWII, it was said never again will such crimes against humanity be committed. Never again will we drop atomic bombs and gas people based on disability, sexual orientation, religion, ethnicity or ‘otherness’. Never again will we turn boats of refugees away, back to the very states whose persecution they are fleeing. Never again will we allow innocents to become victims or allow state-sponsored terrorism to flourish.

Since then, we have deluded ourselves into believing the power of modern day diplomacy and medicine to thwart and delay death.

But death does not forget your face, nor does it lose sight of the path upon which you set your feet. Death does not heed reasons, pleas or justifications. Death does not listen to the wails of those left behind. Death does not care about our medical advances.

Because death does not need to rely on the scent of poor health to find you. Death knows our hate is its most powerful ally; a strong, gripping, merciless disease that hurls us willingly towards its path.

And hate? Hate has been heavy, these past few weeks.



What else but hate can explain 298 bodies dropping from the sky, crashing into houses, farms, and sunflower fields? Their bodies naked, personal belongings strewn and looted; trapped in a cycle of accusations and counter-accusations; left to rot; refused the dignity of a burial?

do you know why,

do you know why,

sunflowers cry?

33,000 feet high

298 shooting stars

drop from the sky

into fields,

into fields

of sunflower tears.

But we do not stop there, for death has been well fed this month.

As one of death’s familiar haunts lit up spectacularly, a macabre open air cinema opened for a live replay of the region’s popular Let’s Bomb the Shit out of Gaza, filmed exclusively in the most densely populated open air prisons in the world.




My pen recoils from the words I write about the images I see.

Somewhere along the past few weeks, over 300 people have died, and we have forgotten the reason why. 

The reason why it started was the lack of humanity of those who murdered human beings. The reason why it continues is the lack of humanity of those who wear their comfiest hoodies, rug themselves up in their warmest blankets, feast their stomachs on popcorn and pull out their chairs and couches to places that offer the best vantage points to watch fellow human beings die, as if their death was a spectator sport. And if you are ever in doubt, about what it is that has them enthralled, it is their own hate, and this is what their hate looks like:



Clap, clap,

plumes of hate salivate,

Clap clap,

encircled, we run, 


Clap, clap,

Clap, clap,

Clap, clap.


Somewhere along the last few weeks, we have not only forgotten that we are part of humanity, but we have forgotten to let humanity be a part of us. And in turn, we have let our hate open the floodgates of death.

Never again.


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